


Promises to Keep

by Aghenry



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:17:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aghenry/pseuds/Aghenry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana is sick and tired of Merlin interfering in her and Morgause’s plans. Fortunately, she has the perfect solution: slip Merlin a love potion and he’ll be too infatuated with her to think straight. But a Merlin in love brings more questions than answers, and everyone in Camelot is affected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction! Thanks to EditorEd for the beta. I reworked canon a bit to suit my needs, but isn't that the point?  
> Chapter One: Morgana puts her plan in motion, and Merlin and Arthur have a misunderstanding.

This was ridiculous. Ridiculous! She should have known. Merlin is incompetent at supposedly everything, of course he would muck up killing Arthur. Not that he had any problems killing her, Morgana thought bitterly. She glared out the window of her chambers at Arthur (still alive!) and Merlin in the courtyard below.

And yet. If Merlin is truly an incompetent idiot, how is it that he always plays a hand in spoiling her plans? Morgause was as frustrated as her, she knew. After all the trouble they had gone to, kidnapping Merlin, hijacking his mind, and setting him loose with the Homorrah controlling him, it appeared their efforts were for naught. And to top it all off, now Gwen was suspicious. This was a disaster.

It would have been such sweet revenge, too, for Arthur to face his demise at the hands of the man he trusted most. For Merlin to betray a friend he loves.

A friend he loves.

Morgana felt the beginnings of a plan stir in her mind.

Arthur was Merlin’s best friend. Merlin was in Arthur’s confidence, to the point that Arthur had failed to recognize multiple attempts on his life. Arthur trusted Merlin, told Merlin all his plans in advance. Hell, Arthur probably asked for Merlin’s opinion on them. Merlin was beyond Arthur’s suspicion, and for good reason. His loyalty to Arthur was absolute.

Morgana had tried to force Merlin’s obedience by taking away his will, his feelings. Perhaps, rather than remove his feelings, she should simply … redirect them.

Gods. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She had seen it happen to Arthur multiple times, even Uther with that hideous troll, and – and Merlin was always the one to figure it out. He seemed to be more observant than the entirety of Camelot.

He’d certainly been watching her like a hawk since her return.

But Arthur… why, Arthur hadn’t recognized it when his manservant had turned assassin, he certainly wouldn’t notice something as insidious as a love spell influencing Merlin’s behavior! And if Arthur wouldn’t notice, who would?

She would enchant Merlin to fall in love with her.

Why had she never realized? Merlin would be the perfect pawn. If he were besotted with her, he would do anything he could to make her happy. He would stop interfering with her plans to rule Camelot… rather, he would help her plans along! Why, he could spy on Arthur for her!

His actions would be indirectly responsible for Arthur’s downfall, as much as if he had killed Arthur himself. And afterwards, when Morgana was sitting on her rightful throne and had tired of Merlin groveling at her feet, she would lift the love spell and watch Merlin despair as she told him all that she had accomplished with his help.

If he helped her kill Arthur in any way, it would break him. Morgana wanted Merlin broken before she wanted him dead.

It was the least that bastard deserved after what he did to her.

After all, Merlin would never willingly spy on Arthur for her. But then, Arthur would never have willingly married Sophia or Vivian, and that didn’t stop him from trying.

Men would do anything when under the thrall of a love potion.

This was the best idea she had ever had.

Morgana grinned.

\---

Morgause frowned.

“I don’t like this.”

They were huddled in the forest together, as it was easier for Morgana to sneak out of the castle than for Morgause to sneak in. The only person who had ever successfully tailed Morgana to the meeting place was Merlin, and after the incident with the serkets (how had he managed to escape?) he had not followed her since.

“What’s not to like? With Merlin in my pocket instead of fighting us at every turn, we’ll finally take Camelot! I tire of waiting.”

“Sister, you fail to realize how tricky love spells can be. I would hate for you to be… unduly influenced by the servant’s affections.”

Morgana froze, her voice like ice. “I am sure you do not mean to imply what I think you are implying.”

“Sister – “

“Don’t you sister me, Morgause. He poisoned me. He attempted to murder me, and has been nothing but a thorn in our sides since, and yet you would dare to suggest that flowers and sweet words would win my forgiveness? That I could be what, wooed? And forget our mission?”

Morgana’s voice dropped to a hurt whisper.

“I had thought you of all people knew me better than that.”

Morgause looked stricken, and wrapped Morgana in her arms. “I meant no harm, sister. Of course I know you would never be so weak as to stray from our path, no matter the temptation. I see now that there will be no temptation at all. I merely wish you to be wary. If we proceed with this plan of yours, we will have to do so carefully.”

Appeased, Morgana asked, “What do you need me to do?”

\---

Morgana snuck back into the castle carefully. Morgause had known of dozens of love spells to choose from; picking one had been a lengthier process than anticipated, and dawn was fast approaching. She needed to beat Gwen to her chambers.

Morgana walked briskly down another hallway. The love potion Morgause and she had decided upon required a lock of Merlin’s hair, which would be slightly tricky to obtain without raising his suspicions. Fortunately, Merlin’s hair was on the longer side these days. He probably didn’t have time to attend to it between betraying his friends and thwarting all her plans. However, the more pressing problem was how to get Merlin to drink the potion.

He would never drink anything that came from her hand, not after the poison incident and all that had followed. So someone else must deliver it. But Merlin was as likely to be suspicious of a stranger as he was of her. She could sneak the potion into the hands of someone he trusted. Gaius, or perhaps Gwen.

When did Merlin let his guard down?

She rounded another corner and came to an abrupt halt opposite the man in question. Merlin stopped short.

“Morgana,” he said warily. “You’re up early.” Well, he certainly didn’t let his guard down around her.

“Merlin.” She spat back, and made to walk around him. Then reconsidered. There was no time like the present, after all.

Time to get some hair.

She stepped closer to Merlin, pressing into his space. He backed up, but his voice remained firm. “You’ve gone too far, Morgana.” He wasn’t referring to their close proximity. Someone sounded a little upset about being mind-controlled to kill his prince. Boo-hoo.

“Oh get over yourself, Merlin,” she hissed. “Arthur will die, and I will claim the throne. You will stay out of my way, or I’ll have you executed. I could come up with any number of reasons, true or otherwise, and you know Uther would believe me.”

She placed her hand against his cheek, curling her fingers into his hair.

Merlin stared at her, aghast.

“Arthur loves you. You’re like a sister to him! You have a home here! And he would never turn on you for your magic, not like Uther. Why won’t you leave well enough alone?”

Like a sister to him. Merlin spoke truer than he knew.

“Oh Merlin,” she cooed. “I would kill you now, but it would raise too many questions. Morgause is a big proponent of biding our time, waiting for the perfect opportunity.”

Her voice hardened. “But my patience is reaching its limit. I will not be denied my birthright much longer, and especially not by you. Stay out of my way.” She ripped her hand out of Merlin’s hair, taking a small chunk of hair with it, and used the other to shove him hard into the wall before stalking off down the hall.

That wasn’t so hard, was it?

Merlin stared after her, rubbing his head. What did she mean, her birthright?

\---

It came to Morgana at the feast a week later.

Uther and Arthur were drinking and making merry, along with the rest of the court. Celebrating another successful hunt, or whatever. Merlin was dutifully filling cups and staying out of the way. He seemed exhausted.

She supposed that made sense, what with the early hours she had seen him awake at and then the day-long hunt through the woods, carrying gear and doing servant things.

And worrying about Arthur dying by her hand, presumably.

What Merlin needed, Morgana decided, was to loosen up. Live a little.

And later die a slow and agonizing death, again by her hand, but that was for another time. Right now, she needed Merlin to make a mistake somewhere and give her the chance to slip him the love potion.

He’d certainly be less alert if he were drunk.

She waited until Merlin had stepped forwards again to refill Arthur’s cup before she pounced. “Arthur, Merlin looks exhausted! You must be working him too hard!” Merlin glanced up at her, alarmed.

“Don’t you agree, Uther? He looks a fright! Arthur, don’t you ever give the poor dear a break?”

Arthur sputtered, “A break? He’s the laziest manservant I’ve ever had! All he does is take breaks!”

“Just look at him, Arthur! He’s about to fall over! Uther, couldn’t we give Merlin the honor of dining with us, just for tonight? It’s certainly not unheard of, and he has done so well in his duties lately.”

Merlin searched the table for Gaius, before remembering the man was away at a neighboring village treating an outbreak of some minor disease, and therefore unable to come to his rescue. He was on his own.

“Now that she mentions it, you do look paler than usual, Merlin. Which is a feat in itself.”

Arthur gestured for an extra chair to be brought to the table. Merlin stared at it, unmoving.

“Oh go on boy, sit!” Uther finally took notice and waved an arm at the chair. He was well into the wine. “You’ve been in Camelot for three years now, four? That is by far the longest time Arthur has ever employed a manservant. Impressive despite your faults. I suppose even imbeciles deserve a night off once in their lives. Wine! Bring wine for the boy!”

The last bit of Uther’s speech was bellowed at the nearest servant, who hastened to obey, filling Merlin’s new cup to the brim.

Merlin gingerly sat down at the meal.

What was Morgana up to? Why did she want him to sit at the table? Why was she smirking like that?

Arthur’s none-too-soft elbow jab broke Merlin out of his thoughts.

“Stop gazing into space and dine with us, Merlin. This is probably the finest wine you’ve ever encountered in your short peasant life.”

“Which has been longer than yours, sire,” Merlin replied automatically, looking balefully at his cup. He was none too experienced with wine. Or alcohol in general, really.

“Is the wine not too your liking, Merlin?” Morgana inquired innocently.

Oh gods. Had she poisoned his wine?

She couldn’t have, his cup was filled by a servant across the room. He had watched it happen and seen nothing untoward.

Uther’s face darkened.

“Not to his liking? Wine fit for a king, not to his liking? My wine not good enough for you, boy?”

Oh gods in high heaven. Morgana’s plan was to get him thrown in the dungeons for a week.

Uther was still speaking. “You think you can do better than dine with the King of Camelot?” he said viciously, eyes narrowed.

A month.

Merlin scrambled to right the situation. “Of course not, milord. I am honored to dine with you, milord. I’m just… a bit overwhelmed by it all, milord.”

Merlin worried for a moment that he had overdone it with the ‘milords’, but Uther no longer looked liable to have him executed, so he must be on the right track.

Arthur chose this moment to chime back in to the conversation.

“Overwhelmed? Not to worry, Father, I’ll soon see this idiot to rights.”

Arthur had a familiar gleam in his eye that had never, ever boded well for Merlin.

“Let’s start you out with something you’re used to, eh, Merlin? You’re no stranger to alcohol, I know for a fact that you frequent the taverns. Let’s have a personal jug of wine for Merlin over here! And of course you will drink it in its entirety, so as not to offend the King.”

Merlin felt his half-formed protest die on his lips.

He supposed one night of drunkenness and the raging headache that was sure to follow the next day was preferable to a month in the dungeons for stirring up Uther’s ire. He couldn’t very well stop whatever Morgana’s newest plan was from the dungeons.

And Gaius did have hangover potions for a reason, after all. Just because Merlin had never used them didn’t mean they wouldn’t work.

Gaius had to find a different excuse for Merlin’s magic-related absences!

Satisfied that Merlin was sufficiently trapped into consuming vast amounts of alcohol, Arthur turned the conversation to more important matters.

“What’s this about you having lived longer than me, then? I know I’m older than you,” Arthur drawled. He gestured with a grin to the jug that two servants were setting in front of Merlin. “For instance, I’m much more mature. I would never, say, punish you for abandoning your duties in favor of the tavern – quite often this past year, might I add - by subjecting you to enough alcohol to drown a horse. I am a far kinder master, and will only subject you to enough alcohol to drown a pig, or perhaps a small pony.”

Merlin’s latest “tavern trip” was two weeks ago, when Merlin had traveled to Morgause’s secret hut in the woods to destroy the Homorroh monster before it regrew in his body and forced him to assassinate Arthur.

The week before, Morgana had knocked him out with her magic while he was gathering herbs for Gauis.

He had woken to his first view of Morgause’s creepy hovel, which the sisters made clear was more of a storage area than a living space because they both had standards, but it was a more convenient hideout near Camelot if people thought it was abandoned. Hence the dirt and grime and cobwebs. Besides which, Merlin was not worthy of standards so he suited the place perfectly.

Then Morgause had interrogated him yet again about how curious his servant’s loyalty was (his time with her before she left him for the serkets had apparently not satisfied her), and he had said he’d die before he betrayed Camelot, at which point Morgana had jumped in with a snide “you had no problem betraying me.”

He’d felt a pang of conscience before Morgana had gone on to gloat that the sisters would implant a Homorroh head in his body, remove his personality, and force him to kill Arthur.

Merlin’s conscience would not be bothering him again. He should never have healed Morgana’s head injury all those months ago.

And Arthur thought he was in the bloody tavern.

Merlin was getting well and truly sick of secrets.

\---

Morgana excused herself as the feast was nearing its end, satisfied that Merlin was more than sufficiently drunk for her purposes. She wasn’t sure what amused her more: that Arthur was so sore about Merlin’s perceived tavern-going without him, or that it was so blatantly untrue yet Arthur couldn’t see it.

Poor Merlin, so unappreciated. Ha!

She made her way to Gaius’s chambers, an excuse ready if anyone questioned her, and let herself in with the confidence of someone who knows that victory is imminent.

Gaius was still attending to a nearby village sickness and would not be returning to his quarters for a few days. The old man had made her a batch of nightmare tonic before he left, to keep her in good health while he was away.

Morgana knew better. She had not forgotten his harsh words to her earlier that year. How could she? Gaius had told her she had a heart of stone, that he saw her dark soul under the façade, and then offered her a tonic as calmly as anything.

She did not have a heart of stone. There was simply no one in Camelot left to share her heart with.

Gaius had made her sound evil, made her sound as twisted as Uther, when all the while Gaius had known she had magic and done nothing to help her.

He had unnerved her, but Gaius was a proven liar. She was nothing like Uther.

Morgana emptied out one of Gaius’s hangover cures (helpfully labeled as such – the man’s quarters may be a permanent mess, but there was order in the madness) and refilled the bottle with the love potion Morgause had made after she had gotten ahold of Merlin’s hair.

It was almost perfect.

Morgana used her magic to change the color of the potion to match that of the other hangover cures on the shelf. She then forged a note from Gwen and attached it to the bottle.

There. Merlin trusted Gwen, he’d be out of sorts in the morning anyways, and no one else who had overindulged at the feast would grab a bottle clearly marked for Merlin when there were plenty of hangover cures to choose from.

At least Gaius was useful for something.

\---

Merlin plopped down on the floor in the middle of Arthur’s room. Arthur stared at him in disbelief. For a man who skived off his duties so frequently to drink, Merlin was a terrible lightweight. The two of them had finally made it back to Arthur’s chambers after the feast, and it had seemed a longer journey than the quest for the Fisher King’s trident. Arthur paced. He would have to remove his feast attire by himself, since Merlin was clearly too inebriated, and he bet his wake-up call tomorrow would be late as well. He glanced over at the manservant in question, still sitting on the floor and in the process of removing his clothes. Merlin really was the worst manservant ever. Arthur turned again in his pacing.

And paused. Merlin was what? Arthur turned back around and blinked. Merlin had taken off his jacket and was struggling with his confounded neckerchief.

“Merlin.”

Merlin ignored him and, giving up on his neckerchief, started on his shoes.

“Merlin. What do you think you are doing?” Arthur asked flatly.

His manservant successfully tugged one boot off and moved to the other foot.

For gods sake. Arthur had eased off the drink after Merlin joined the table so as to better appreciate Merlin as a drunk, a state which Arthur – until tonight - had yet to witness. He was now realizing his plan had a downside: he was far too sober to deal with Merlin’s antics at this hour.

“Merlin, quit taking off your clothes!” Arthur all but yelled.

Merlin threw a shoe at him in response.

Arthur ducked and proceeded to blink a lot, first at the shoe and then at Merlin, still lying on the ground.

“…You did not just throw your boot at me. Me, the Crown Prince of Camelot, who can put you in the stocks whenever he likes. I throw things at you, not the other way around!” Arthur said incredulously.

Merlin pouted, “Prat.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? Get up off the floor, you idiot, I can’t believe you’re this useless when you’re drunk!”

Arthur tried to pull Merlin off of the floor. He was unsuccessful.

“It’s not my fault. Told you. ‘Haven’t been drunk in ages,” Merlin muttered.

“Don’t give me that, I know for a fact that you skiv off for the tavern at least once a month!” Arthur scoffed.

Merlin looked affronted, and went so far as to lift his head off of the ground to glare at Arthur from a better angle. “Not true! Haven’t been drinking to get hammered since back in Ealdor with Will. ‘s too dangerous here,” Merlin slurred. “I only ever have a pint or two with you and the rest of the knights.”

Arthur stilled. Merlin never talked about Will. Merlin never spoke much about his life growing up, period. Arthur did occasionally wonder how Merlin could be so skittish around the topic of magic in the castle when he had been so obviously at ease alongside a man he had known practiced magic back in Ealdor. Uncouth though it may be to take advantage of Merlin’s drunken state, perhaps this was Arthur’s chance to get some answers.

“You were… comfortable drinking with a sorcerer?” Arthur asked.

“Hey.” Merlin went the extra effort and sat up fully, if a bit crooked. “Will was my friend. My best friend.”

“Yes, fine, but he was also a bloody sorcerer, Merlin. You can’t be friends with sorcerers, they’ll corrupt you,” Arthur explained exasperatedly. “Why were you friends?”

Merlin suddenly had no trouble getting off the floor at all. He scrambled to his feet and stood nearly nose-to-nose with Arthur, a fact Arthur was having a hard time focusing on given that Merlin was shouting in his face. “You can too be friends with sorcerers!” Merlin poked Arthur in the chest at the end of his sentence, an extra flourish adding to his passion. “You’re not your father, you are better than this, Arthur!” – poke – “Magic is not evil, people are evil! And sometimes evil people use magic for evil purposes, but good people use magic for good purposes too! Like healing!” – poke, poke – “Power corrupts, and hate, but magic?!” Merlin paused for air, before breathing out, “Magic is the purest thing there is.”

Arthur stared in shock. Merlin was… Merlin was... Merlin was angry and worked up and absolutely beautiful, and Arthur had no business thinking such things because he had Gwen, or he would have her one day, hopefully, and besides which it wasn’t as though Merlin ever held his tongue around Arthur before so he would have surely said something if he wanted Arthur the way Arthur sometimes found himself wanting Merlin, but then maybe Merlin had been holding his tongue before after all, because Arthur had no idea Merlin felt this way about magic. He had always thought Merlin was rather scared of magic, when he bothered to think of it, what with the uneasy way Merlin held himself whenever a sorcerer was brought forth in court, and it seemed he had been rambling silently for too long now because Merlin had opened his mouth to speak again.

And was still drunk, obviously, because along with slurring a new stream of words about peaceful druids and children and the beauty of magic, Merlin had also lifted a hand to Arthur’s cheek.

Merlin’s hand was on Arthur’s cheek, and his eyes were inches from Arthur’s eyes, and his mouth was right there – Arthur shoved Merlin away.

Merlin seemed to suddenly realize where he was, what he was saying, and to whom he was saying it. His eyes widened as he backed away from Arthur. “I am so sorry. I didn’t – I mean… I don’t…”

Arthur was pointedly not looking at Merlin. “It’s fine. It’s nothing. You should go.” You should go before I embarrass myself further, Arthur thought. He had no right to look at Merlin in such a manner.

\----

Now hang on a minute. Merlin knew he had been out of line, but he also knew he had spoken the truth, and he would not have it brushed aside.

“It’s not nothing, Arthur, it’s how I truly feel. I’m not sorry that you know, only sorry you had to find out like this,” Merlin explained quietly. He had wanted Arthur to know his true feelings about magic for quite some time, but could never raise the courage to bring the subject up. Between the evil sorcerers attacking Camelot on what seemed a monthly basis, Uther’s fervent bias, and Merlin’s own indiscretions, it never seemed the time. Now that he had, he would not backtrack. Merlin was starting to realize there never would be a “right” time to tell Arthur the truth – waiting until he was king meant waiting until Uther died, and the longer Merlin waited the harder it seemed to be to even contemplate telling Arthur about his magic and past deeds.

Telling Arthur of his views on magic was nowhere close to the same as telling Arthur of his magic, his magic and the lies that accompanied it, Merlin thought. But it was a start. Finally, Merlin was making some progress towards his destiny. He felt giddy. It was small, sure, but it was one less lie.

Arthur seemed to be struggling with words.

That’s fine, Merlin thought cheerily, I can talk enough for both of us.

“I understand that you’re not in a position where you can readily accept this,” – Merlin made an illogical gesture with his hands to indicate what this was (magic, he was talking treason about magic and Arthur was accepting it, was listening to him) – “and I want you to know that that’s okay. I understand you need time. I’ll wait for you. Not forever, obviously, but when you’re ready to discuss this, I’m here. I’ll guide you through it, even, I have loads of experience handling it.”

And even more experience performing it, but that was for another time. Experience handling magic could be explained away easily enough – experience doing magic was another story. Merlin was taking baby steps, sure, but it was a start!

Merlin paused suddenly, concerned. During his little speech Arthur had at first appeared flabbergasted and was now turning the most alarming shade of pink. Was he alright?

\---

Merlin stopped talking and stared at him. “Are you alright?”

If Arthur had to pick one adjective to describe him at the moment, it would most certainly not be “alright”. He was ecstatic. He was shocked. He was terrified.

Merlin was in love with him.

He had never realized… had been afraid to truly consider… and now Merlin was declaring his intentions bold as you please, and would wait for Arthur, and had loads of experience…

How the hell did his bumbling manservant get loads of experience?

Arthur’s mouth moved but no words came out. He felt hot and overheated – he was definitely blushing. This was not like him. Arthur was a man of action, a man of conviction, and had been cured of indecision when he was still a boy.

He should not feel frozen in place.

He should not be picturing Merlin sneaking off to have secret trysts whenever Gaius said he was at the tavern. He should definitely not be picturing what it would be like if Merlin were sneaking off to have secret trysts with Arthur instead.

Arthur was snapped out of his daze by Merlin’s sudden movement toward the door. “I think we’ve had a great chat tonight, yeah?” Merlin said as he slipped out of Arthur’s chambers. Arthur looked like he needed some time to digest everything, and Merlin was feeling a sense of drowsy accomplishment set in. “Looking forward to tomorrow, sire!” Merlin shouted as he stumbled down the hall.

Arthur stared at his now-empty chambers. He didn’t sleep for a long, long time.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin falls for the trap. Kilgharrah disapproves.

\-----

Arthur woke with a gasp. He was cold and wet and was that _Merlin_ standing over him with the silver water pitcher?

It was. Arthur squinted up at him. The morning sunlight streaming through his window made everything _so bright_. It was awful.

 “Sire,” Merlin spoke with an underlying air of _you absolute asshole._ Now wait a minute. Arthur wasn’t the one who had just poured frigid water on a sleeping man’s head.

 “I wonder if you could tell me, _Merlin_ , why I happen to be drenched in water as you stand over me with an empty water pitcher. It looks rather as though you did it on purpose,” Arthur said, much more awake than he would have liked and distinctly irritated.

“Oh! OH! I’m so sorry, are you uncomfortable, sire? At least you slept in a _bed_ instead of the hallway, yeah? At least you know where your _only pair of shoes are!_ What the hell happened last night?” Merlin yelled.

Arthur sat up straight. “You don’t remember?”

“And whose fault is that? You’re the one who made sure I drank so much at the feast, the least you could have done is gotten me to bed properly! I’ve done it for your drunk arse often enough,” Merlin complained.

“That’s because it’s your job to help me turn in for the night, whether I’m drunk or not,” Arthur replied automatically. Merlin didn’t remember last night? What was Arthur supposed to do now?

“Arthur, friends don’t let drunk friends pass out in the stairwell,” Merlin said as spotted his jacket on the floor and walked towards it, still crumpled from last night. “My head is pounding, I think something may have actually died in my mouth, and I have this crick in my neck from _sleeping on the castle floor._ Do you even realize how badly I scared one of the maids this morning when she stumbled upon me? She thought I was dead!” Merlin finished putting on his jacket and reached for his shoes – shoe.

“Arthur. Where on earth did you put my other shoe?” Merlin asked. No response. He looked towards the prince expectantly, waiting for an Arthur approximation of an apology and some sort of explanation of the night’s proceedings.

Arthur was too panicked to give him one.

“Arthur? Are you alright?”

He had spent most of the night thinking about Merlin’s unexpected love confession, and now his idiot manservant had the gall to forget it completely! Arthur had thought over what Merlin said a million times after he left last night, and not one of his thoughts had considered the current scenario. Should Arthur tell him what had transpired? What if Merlin’s memory of it came back later and he was furious with Arthur for keeping it from him? What if Merlin’s memory never came back… and things just carried on as they were? That would be fine, right? Nothing about Merlin and Arthur’s relationship would change.

Arthur felt an uneasy pang at the thought. He ignored it. Forgetting that any discussion of feelings had ever happened was the best way forward. He would just –

His thoughts were interrupted as Merlin clapped his hands loudly in front of Arthur’s face, startling him for the second time that morning.

“Arthur! My other boot! Where is it?” Merlin demanded.

Arthur forced himself out of his thoughts and focused on the present. “You threw it at me last night. I think it landed under the nightstand.”

Merlin appeared slightly taken aback. “I did? Oh. Sorry.” Merlin bent down to take a look. Arthur found himself admiring Merlin’s ass and promptly looked elsewhere. For heaven’s sake! He had just decided not to pursue this course of action!

“Actually, I’m not sorry. You probably deserved it,” Merlin bantered, his head under the nightstand as he retrieved his shoe. Arthur said nothing in return, his thoughts miles away again.

Merlin would be expecting Arthur to get ready for the day any minute now… What did Merlin think about when he was dressing and undressing Arthur? Could Arthur really act natural in that situation, knowing Merlin’s affections for him? Arthur was a terrible liar. Merlin was sure to figure out something was off eventually, and he would be hurt if Arthur acted distant without any context. And if… on the off chance…hypothetically, if he were to pursue something with Merlin, he would need to end things with Gwen. Sweet, wonderful, lovely Gwen who made him feel so at ease and happy in her presence. Arthur had no idea what to do.

Merlin finally finished dressing and glanced at Arthur, who seemed utterly absorbed in a staring contest with his bed sheets. Whatever the hell had gotten into the prince this morning, Merlin had no desire to be a part of it. The mornings after feasts were _supposed_ to be relaxing; the castle had a sort of unspoken agreement on a late start after nights of heavy indulgence, and Merlin could sleep in for an extra hour or so. Instead, he was tired, sore _,_ decidedly grumpy, and dreadfully hungover.

“You really don’t have any excuse for abandoning me last night, barefoot and hammered?” Merlin said flatly, trying to get Arthur’s attention once more. “Fine,” Merlin continued, “that’s just dandy. If you’ve nothing to say for yourself, and as I believe it is your fault that I feel so awful, I’m sure you won’t mind me taking the morning off to recover in my bed.” He paused to allow Arthur to interject, if he were so inclined. Arthur continued to stare blankly at his bed.

“Wonderful,” Merlin said, exasperated. “I’m leaving, then. See you this afternoon, _sire._ ” He walked off.

Arthur didn’t even look up.

\-------

Merlin muttered quietly under his breath as he walked back to Gaius’s chambers. Was it too much to ask for a simple apology? He was used to Arthur not giving him any recognition or praise for a job well done, but to refuse to even say one single “sorry”? When it was Arthur who had failed to take care of Merlin in even the smallest capacity? Seriously? He would never have let one of his precious knights wander off in that state. Why was it so hard for Arthur to admit when he was wrong –

Merlin’s musings were cut short as he collided into a wall of linens. They flew everywhere in a spectacular fashion as he looked up from his new position on the floor.

He was getting far too familiar with Camelot’s floors these days, his body protested at him as he stood up and lifted a hand to the person he had unwittingly run over.

“What on earth..? Watch where you’re going! It’ll take me ages to sort these out again!” Gwen chastised, before looking up at Merlin and his extended hand. “Merlin?!” she exclaimed, confused. “But – I thought you must be the newest kitchen girl, she’s crashed into the staff four times this week already, head in the clouds – are you alright? It’s not like you to overlook people.” He helped her off of the floor and they bent down to begin picking up the scattered linens.

“I’ve had a rough morning,” Merlin admitted. “Terribly sorry about knocking you over, by the way. I hope it’s not too much extra work.” Look how easy that was, Arthur, he thought sarcastically, I apologized and the world didn’t end.

“And a rough night as well, by the smell of things,” Gwen said, wrinkling her nose. “You reek of alcohol.”

Merlin stared at her.

“Oh dear, that wasn’t terribly sensitive of me,” Gwen stated anxiously. “You normally smell very nice! Erm, not that I smell you, specifically, that would be weird, it’s just that, you know, normally you don’t smell bad and now you do. You look a little worse for wear, too,” she added, concern lacing her voice. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

Merlin looked at her in disbelief before bursting into laughter. “You sure know how to cheer someone up! Nothing like kicking a man when he’s down, yeah?”

“Shut up,” Gwen said, reaching over to rub Merlin’s head affectionately before making a show of shaking out her hand. “And wash your hair. Ew. Seriously, what did you get up to last night? Morgana dismissed me before the feast, she said I deserved a night off. She’s been doing that a lot since she returned,” Gwen said quietly. “I thought she just needed some time to adjust after her kidnapping, but lately things have been seeming to get worse instead of better.  I don’t know how to be there for her when she keeps sending me away. Lately she seems like a different person altogether.” Her voice broke on the last sentence.

“Oh, _Gwen_ ,” Merlin reached out and wrapped her in a hug, upsetting the linens for the second time that morning. “It’ll be alright, everything will work out in the long run.” No it won’t. Merlin hated lying to Gwen, but what were his alternatives? The truth was out of the question. _Why, you’re absolutely right, Gwen, and the reason she’s been so distant is because she’s plotting to take over Camelot as part of an evil sorceress team? And she’s an evil sorceress? And I tried to kill her once, and she’s tried to kill me too?_

Yeah right. If Merlin told Gwen any of that, Morgana would find out and get Uther to have his head. She didn’t even have to use the initial poisoning incident; Morgana could make up any number of lies and Uther would believe her.

Merlin couldn’t afford that. Morgana was bitter, twisted, and willing to play dirty. The compassion she once possessed had turned to cruel vengeance. If Merlin were thrown in the dungeons - or worse, had to escape a death sentence - Camelot would be more undefended than it knew.

Gwen spoke into his shoulder. “Do you remember your first year in Camelot, how whenever you could get away from Arthur and Gaius, you would come to Morgana’s chambers and the three of us would gossip the afternoons away? I miss those days. I’m not sure what’s changed, but I lost my best friend for a year and it seems I still haven’t got her back. I’ll be damned if I lose you too,” Gwen said, drawing back to look at Merlin square in the face. “I know what Morgause tried to make you do, with that worm thing in your neck. I helped Gaius get it out. Promise me you’ll be careful, Merlin.”

Merlin grinned at her. “Don’t look so serious, Gwen! You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Besides, I doubt Morgause will try that again. Gaius tells me I made a shit assassin.”

Gwen chuckled at that. “You really were terrible at it.”

“Tell you what. Next weekend what say you and I go to the market for the afternoon, just the two of us? Some Gwen-and-Merlin alone time. You can tell me all about that new kitchen maid who runs into people,” Merlin joked.

“She’s even clumsier than you are,” Gwen said very earnestly.

“Oi! Uncalled for!”

“Says someone who knocked me over not ten minutes ago!” Gwen laughed. “Alright, let’s do it. And you can tell me what it was that’s got you in such a state this morning. You really do need to bathe!”

“It was Arthur’s fault, as usual. Speaking of the prince, perhaps after our Gwen-and-Merlin time I can arrange for some Gwen-and-Arthur time,” Merlin proposed, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Merlin!” Gwen swatted at him. “You’re dreadful!” They finished gathering up the linens and Gwen headed off down the hallway.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” Merlin called after her before continuing on his way to Gaius’s.

It hurt sometimes, to think of Gwen and Arthur together in a context that he wouldn’t allow for himself, but there was nothing for it. Arthur deserved someone he could trust unconditionally, someone he could give all of himself to and receive all of that person in return. That person wasn’t Merlin, not while he kept his magic a secret.

It would be hard enough to keep Arthur’s friendship when the prince found out, let alone try for anything further. It wasn’t in the cards for them. The important part was that Merlin remain by Arthur’s side. If that meant letting Gwen have Arthur, so be it. They were his two best friends in the world, and they deserved happiness. He had been hiding parts of himself for years – was this so different?

\------

Merlin finally arrived at Gaius’s chambers and headed straight for the hangover potions. His head hurt, his body hurt, and he had experienced an earlier and more emotionally draining morning than anticipated. Plus his stomach was still roiling and all in all he felt rather nauseous. He couldn’t wait to get some relief from his hangover, magic himself clean, and take a much-needed nap.

He started reaching for the cures on the shelf before noticing that Gwen had singled a bottle out for him with a little note. That was nice of her, Merlin thought as he chugged it, and – had she added lavender? It tasted better than he expected it to, given the ingredients he’d used to brew the cures yesterday.

Wait a minute. Gwen said she hadn’t even been at the feast last night, how had she known he would need a hangover remedy?

Did that even matter compared to how beautiful Morgana was? Merlin had to sit down at the realization. She was so kind, and clever, and perfect in every way. He was smitten. How was it possible for someone to even be so wonderful? He stood up again, intent on telling her his feelings, before remembering with a gasp what Gwen had said about his appearance. He couldn’t possibly approach Morgana looking like he did!

Merlin set to work cleaning himself up. He needed a plan. Morgana could surely have her choice of suitors, so why would she ever choose Merlin?

He wasn’t a nobleman, so that was probably a strike against him.

He loved her and would do anything for her, so that should be a point in his favor?

He had a decent body. He was fit. Plus he occasionally heard some of the maids giggling about him and blushing, so he supposed he was attractive enough.

Would Morgana care that his body carried a fairly significant number of scars? Merlin looked at his chest self-consciously as he changed into his nicer pair of pants. She’d caused some of them, he reflected, so probably not.

Oh no. No, no, no. Morgana had attacked him less than a month ago! She yelled at him in the hallway just last week! Merlin threw his hands in the air. This wouldn’t do at all! How was he supposed to woo someone who was angry with him?! He paced back and forth frantically.

He needed advice. Gaius wouldn’t be back for several more days, and Arthur would probably just make fun of him. He remembered how Arthur had scoffed at his “relationship” with Morgana back when she first discovered her magic for what it was. Merlin had tried to be there for her without revealing too much of himself, and Arthur had misunderstood and frowned upon it.

Merlin had brought her flowers then. Perhaps he should bring Morgana flowers again?

Could he even call her “Morgana”? Would she prefer “the Lady Morgana”, instead, as was her proper title?

Gwen would know the proper etiquette, but Gwen might let slip to Morgana how Merlin felt. He couldn’t have Morgana knowing that he was looking for advice on how to court her before he had even begun! He needed to appear suave and sexy and like he knew what he was doing. Besides, what if Gwen did keep her mouth shut, but Morgana saw him spending time with Gwen and thought he harbored affections for her maidservant instead of for her? That would be terrible!

It was probably best for him to avoid all other women, so that Morgana knew he was devoted solely to her.

Who else could he get advice from, though? Lancelot could certainly court a lady, and he doubted Gwaine would have any problems either. Regrettably, neither of them were in Camelot.

Merlin tried to picture pulling Leon aside to talk about his love life. Arthur’s top knight probably wouldn’t approve of Merlin loving someone above his supposed “station.”

George!

No.

Just no.

Wasn’t there anyone in Camelot he could talk to about this?

Merlin stopped in his tracks and slapped a hand to his forehead. But of course! Who did he always talk to when he needed guidance?

Merlin set off to call the dragon.

\---

“Young warlock, what has happened? I’m sure several villages saw me fly over them. My existence is no longer secret.” Kilgharrah said with concern as he landed in their secret field. Their meeting spot was normally far enough from Camelot to keep Kilgharrah’s existence a secret, but close enough for Merlin to get back to the castle within the night.

Merlin had sort of forgotten about the whole secrecy-works-best-at-night thing, to be honest. He was more concerned about his unrequited love.

“Kilgharrah,” Merlin began gravely, “I need your help. I don’t think I’ve ever faced such a difficult problem before.”

“Go on,” Kilgharrah urged, his voice filled with worry. To call him so openly, in broad daylight – before the lunch hour, even – and to look so grim upon his arrival… Camelot must be in severe danger indeed.

“I’m in love,” Merlin admitted.

“What.”

“I don’t know how to go about wooing her. You’re like thousands of years old, yeah? You must have had some experience with dating other dragons, or observed human mating practices or something. How can I win Morgana’s heart?”

“What?!” Kilgharrah shrieked.

“I know! I think she hates me, and I have no idea how to change her impression of me! I’m miserable. All I want to do is hold her in my arms and fulfill her every wish, but I couldn’t bear it if she turns me away.”

Kilgharrah looked at Merlin aghast. “The witch? You fancy yourself in love with the witch? This cannot be! What has she done to you?” This had not been foretold! This would set destiny off its course entirely, and ruin the dream of Albion forever!

“DO NOT CALL HER A WITCH!” Merlin commanded in the dragon tongue furiously. “YOU WILL CALL HER AN EXQUISITE YOUNG WOMAN, AND NOTHING ELSE!”

Kilgharrah glowered at Merlin. When the young warlock returned to his right mind, he would have some answering to do for abusing his Dragonlord powers in such a petty fashion. It was only further proof that Merlin was under a spell, and clearly a powerful one if it could cause Merlin to forget his promise not to command Kilgharrah against his will.

This was bad.

“What does Gaius think about your situation with the… with her?”

“I just told you what to call her,” Merlin frowned. “Weren’t you listening?”

Kilgharrah was listening all right. He needed all the information he could get his claws on if he was going to fix this.

“Right. Of course. What did Gaius say when you told him about your feelings for the exquisite young woman?” Exquisite? Of all the adjectives to choose from?

“Well, that’s why I’m here,” Merlin replied. “Gaius is servicing a nearby village that came down with a sickness, and isn’t due back for several days. I can’t wait that long! Every hour without my lady is an hour in which my heart breaks further.”

Exceedingly bad. Kilgharrah needed to keep Merlin out of Morgana’s clutches, and he couldn’t very well do it himself. Camelot would attack him the instant he set foot in the castle courtyard, and as he had promised the young Dragonlord not to harm Camelot anymore, he would be a sitting duck. Gaius needed to save Merlin for him.

Kilgharrah suppressed a shudder. He didn’t fancy the idea of leaving the fate of Albion in the old man’s hands. So many things could go wrong; there needed to be a wider safety net.

“How long have you felt this way, anyways?” What exactly was Kilgharrah dealing with?

“My love for Morgana spans beyond time. It is all-encompassing,” Merlin answered loftily.

“Naturally,” the dragon replied. “But if you had to put a measure on it…”

Merlin appeared deep in thought. “Well, I suppose I only realized the depth of the emotions contained within me this morning. But it feels like a lifetime ago.”

Just this morning. That was a small silver lining. The witch’s plan must have only just been put in motion. Still, Kilgharrah would have to move fast to fix things.

“Which village is Gaius in? How far of a ride, and in what direction from the castle?” Kilgharrah questioned.

Merlin moaned dramatically. “Kilgharrah, it doesn’t matter where he’s at, what matters is he’s not here to help me! Look, do you have any advice or not?”

“I do, young warlock, I do. The most important thing is, you mustn’t rush her. She is extremely upset with you and I am positive that the sight of you causes her physical pain. For the first two weeks, at the very minimum, you must make every effort to stay out of her way. Don’t talk to her, don’t engage with her, don’t even let her see you. To do so would be tantamount to losing her forever. If you wish to have any chance at all, you must follow my instructions exactly, do you understand?”

Merlin considered Kilgharrah skeptically. “Are you sure that’s what I need to do? Shouldn’t I shower her with gifts and poetry? I feel like that’s what Gwaine and Lancelot would do, is show their feelings.”

“To do so would be a grave mistake, young warlock,” Kilgharrah intoned. “The exquisite young woman’s anger requires time to cool, and so time is what you must give her.”

“But I want to be with her _now_ ,” Merlin whined.

“Do you want her to think you pushy and insensitive?” Kilgharrah roared.

Merlin was shocked. “Of course not!”

“Do you want to seem demanding and immature?”

“Never!” Merlin’s face was awash with horror.

“Then you shall do as I say, and hide yourself from the wi – the exquisite young woman for a minimum of two weeks!”

Merlin was quiet for a moment. “Only… do you think, we could get a second opinion?” He asked hesitatingly. “Just to be sure? You could go find Lancelot or Gwaine and ask them what they think? I promise I’ll follow your advice until then. It’s just, two whole weeks is _so long_ to be apart from her.”

Now there was an idea. Kilgharrah could search out not just Gaius, but Merlin’s friends outside the castle. They could keep Merlin contained and managed until Gaius found the cure for whatever love spell the young warlock was currently under. There was hope after all.

“Indeed, excellent thinking. I shall be sure to send them towards Camelot with utmost haste. Now why don’t you take the rest of the day to compose an ode to your love? You can do it right here in this field, and plan which wildflowers you will bring her in two weeks’ time.” And avoid going back to Camelot and the witch’s clutches for as long as possible. If Kilgharrah was lucky, Merlin’s love-addled self would sit outside for so long that Arthur would throw him in the stocks for an unsanctioned day off.

Every minute the young warlock was away from the witch was a victory in Kilgharrah’s book. Until Merlin was back in his right mind, it simply wasn’t safe otherwise.

\--------

Morgana snuck out of the castle that night to meet with Morgause. Reports of dragon sightings had begun filtering in from the surrounding villages at lunchtime that day, and Uther had reacted exactly as one would expect from the tyrant – with disbelief, rage, and immediate orders to find and kill the beast. The beast!

Morgana seethed. She had sat listening to Uther’s bigoted filth for hours in court. Morgause had taught her that dragons were a mythical and revered race, full of unparalleled knowledge, and Uther’s genocide had wiped them out. It was little wonder the last known dragon had attacked Camelot, given how Uther treated its kin.

And now that a dragon had surfaced again, Uther would see it dead? The evidence of Uther’s hatred towards magic only strengthened her resolve to replace him on the throne. Camelot deserved a better ruler.

Morgana arrived at the secret hut and let herself in. Morgause was already inside.

“Sister!” Morgause gushed as they embraced, “I take it you have heard the news? A dragon, flying over Camelot! This bodes well for our cause.”

“Or ill,” Morgana spat. “Uther plans to kill it. He sent out a search party barely an hour after first hearing the news. Arthur is leading the hunt, obviously.”

“Like father, like son,” Morgause commiserated.

Morgana nodded. “This could be our chance. We can send bandits to ambush Arthur in the woods.”

“No,” the older witch cautioned, “we’ve tried that before, he’s too protected with his knights. I will not see us waste resources on a rash decision when we are so close to our goal. Besides, they’re not the only ones who would like to find the dragon. We let his search party do the hard work and follow their trail. With luck, Arthur will lead us straight to the dragon’s lair.”

“You think we could get the dragon on our side?”

“I will follow the search party myself and find an opportunity to speak to the dragon alone. He or she will be easy to persuade – I can’t imagine a creature of the Old Religion opposing our cause!” Morgause glanced at her sister carefully. “And what of the boy, Merlin? What progress there? I assume he rides with Arthur.”

“Surprisingly, no,” Morgana replied. “He’s been missing all day.”

Morgause was concerned. “That seems rather out of character for him, to leave Arthur facing danger alone.”

“Our plan may have worked better than expected. Last night Merlin consumed what was frankly an obscene amount of alcohol. I left the potion for him to find this morning, disguised as one of Gaius’s remedies, and no one has seen head nor tail of him since. He must have drunk it. I suspect he’s in a right tizzy about his newfound feelings for me,” Morgana snickered. “You should have seen the daze Arthur was in without a manservant to order around.”

“Excellent. You must find the boy and confirm the spell has truly taken effect.”

“I’m sure it has! Your magic always works.” Morgana looked away briefly. “I wish mine could assist you more.”

“You assist me plenty,” Morgause reassured her. “Look how far you have come under my tutelage, and in so short a time compared to my own learning! I know you want to master more spells, but you know as well as I that it is too dangerous for you to come into your full power while under Uther’s reign. When you are Queen, I will teach you everything you wish to learn. But for now –“

“I know, I know, we must wait,” Morgana grumbled.

“Exactly, sister dear. We must wait.”

\----

Merlin collapsed into his bed exhausted.

He had composed no less than five odes to Morgana after Kilgharrah left him, and done quite a lot of thinking in between.

His conclusion was that Kilgharrah’s idea was bollocks.

Stay away from Morgana so her anger would lessen? When it had only grown in strength the entire year she was apart from him?

Stay away from the most perfect person to walk the earth, and let another man steal her away?

Merlin didn’t even know if she liked men; he had never known her to entertain a suitor before. But the thought that his beloved was incapable of returning his feelings was too terrible to bear; he was going ahead with his courtship regardless.

His New Plan had taken shape slowly, and with great deliberation on all aspects. Merlin was really quite proud of it.

He would give her flowers, obviously. Every proper romance needed flowers. And gifts. Merlin had a few special surprises in mind that he was certain Morgana would cherish. Because what was more important to Morgana than magic? Nothing, that’s what! So Merlin would give her magical presents! She would love them.

Merlin had mulled over whether to reveal his own magic to her, and painfully decided that it was too soon. He would have to work up to it over time if he was to be given any chance whatsoever in the romance field. But he would not lie to her longer than he deemed absolutely necessary. As soon as he felt she would not try to kill him instantly for keeping his secret when she had shared hers, he would tell her everything.

The most difficult part of the New Plan was also the most important. Merlin knew firsthand how lonely and exhausting it was to have magic in Camelot. There was a constant fear of discovery, of abandonment, of being looked at with disgust by family and friends for something that felt as natural as breathing.

This was an unacceptable state of affairs.

Merlin hoped to make Morgana his wife! It was absolutely imperative that she feel safe in her own home. The laws governing magic needed to change as soon as possible.

There was one more component of the New Plan: Merlin _had_ to up his game around the castle. He couldn’t very well ask for Morgana’s hand if he was perceived as incompetent, or worse - unemployed! Merlin was determined to become the best manservant and physician’s assistant that Camelot had ever seen.

Merlin fell asleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of his darling sweetheart.

\-------

Arthur could not fall asleep. Despite the exhaustion of riding, leading his knights, and questioning villagers, it seemed not even a dragon could drive thoughts of Merlin from his mind. He stared up at the dark night sky morosely. Arthur had found himself turning partway in his saddle to make a snarky comment to Merlin on the road today time and time again, only to remember that Merlin was once more skipping off his duties. Arthur couldn’t recall the last time his manservant had failed to accompany him outside the castle.

More importantly, he couldn’t forget where Merlin was instead.

There had been plenty of time to mull over Merlin’s various confessions in the past 24 hours. After the initial shock of Merlin’s secret love, other things had surfaced in Arthur’s mind. Merlin’s passion while describing the benefits of magic, for one. That had certainly been a surprise. Honestly, it bordered on treason. Little wonder that Merlin kept his views to himself.

However, Arthur could scarcely focus on that in the face of the other facts Merlin had been so insistent upon last night. Apparently, his manservant was never in the tavern. And had _loads of experience_ with men. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together.

Merlin had a secret lover, and every time he vanished for days on end “in the tavern”, he was visiting this other man. Possibly more than one man! Combine it with Merlin’s inability to hold his liquor, and everything made perfect sense. Arthur was kicking himself for not seeing it sooner, and kicking himself again for allowing the realization to affect him. Why should the prince of Camelot care how his manservant got off?

But he did care.

Arthur had been stuck in that paradox all day. He shouldn’t care. But he did. And he refused to look closer at why it bothered him so much.

It’s just.

Merlin loved _Arthur,_ he had _said_ so, and yet the very next day saw his manservant run off to another’s arms. Why would he do that? Merlin couldn’t have Arthur, so he took the next best thing?

So Merlin didn’t remember telling Arthur he loved him. Fine. But still.

Arthur was annoyed.

He rolled over in his bedsack with a huff. His manservant was an idiot.

It seemed Arthur was not the only one lacking for sleep, because at Arthur’s rustling, Leon whispered across the fire. “Prince Arthur? Are you awake?”

“Unfortunately yes. I hope my tossing and turning has not kept you up.” Arthur replied quietly. He scanned around him, but the other knights appeared dead to the world. Except for Bedivere, Arthur amended in his head, catching sight of one of his younger knights propped up against a tree. Bedivere had drawn the late watch duty tonight. If he was already standing guard, it was later than Arthur had thought. Dawn was only hours away, he had yet to sleep a wink, and it was entirely Merlin’s fault.

“It’s strange,” Leon broke Arthur out of his musings. “With this dragon.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s been no… destruction. No flames, no deaths.” Leon paused, and Arthur knew he was thinking of the last dragon attack, and the many comrades they had lost to its wrath. For a moment, the air was heavy with grief. Leon swallowed and continued, “Why is it here now? Flying across the countryside without hurting anyone? What is its purpose?”

Now that Arthur was thinking about it, it was odd that the dragon had yet to act violently. He had always been taught dragons were mindless, brutal beasts, and the only dragon he had encountered confirmed the theory.  It was years ago, but Arthur doubted he would ever forget the fear and devastation that dragon had wrought on Camelot.

It was sheer luck that had allowed Arthur to defeat the beast. It must have been; Merlin said Arthur killed it, but Arthur could not for the life of him remember how. He did not look forward to repeating the feat, but if Camelot’s defense called for it, then him and his knights would answer. Arthur was never one to back down from a challenge, and his knights were as courageous as could be.

He spared one longing thought for Lancelot. The commoner would be a valuable addition in these times. Even that rough-and-ready Gwaine had proven his mettle with a sword. Arthur made a mental note – it was not the first time he had considered extending the knighthood beyond the nobility. He turned his attention back to Leon.

“Whatever the dragon’s purpose, it is sure to bode ill for Camelot. We must be ever vigilant tomorrow.”

“Indeed, sire,” Leon replied. They drifted into an easy silence, Leon contemplating Camelot’s defenses and Arthur back to overanalyzing his manservant’s every action. The prince was facing the unwanted realization that it would be impossible for him to ignore the situation once Merlin was back by his side. Arthur needed to make a decision.

He needed to talk to Merlin.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's in love. Kilgharrah does damage control.

Merlin whistled as he strolled through the streets of Camelot. The day was bright, or at least it looked like it probably would be once the sun finished rising. Life was great. And with Gwen’s help, soon it would be even better.

He reached her house and rapped on the front door, waiting patiently. Sort of. Barely a moment passed before Merlin knocked again. This was urgent business! He had arrived before sunup specifically to catch Gwen before she arrived at the castle – at this time, she should be home.

There was nothing for it. Merlin banged on the door repeatedly and started shouting. “Guinevere! Gwen, are you in there? I need to see you!”

Not even a minute had gone by before Gwen threw open the front door. “Who the bloody hell – _Merlin what are you doing quit causing a ruckus and get inside!”_ She pulled Merlin through the doorway before slamming the door closed.

“Gwen!” Merlin said with delight.

“ _Merlin,”_ Gwen hissed. “What is so important that you couldn’t wait until daybreak to tell me? I thought you were a drunkard at my door!” She glanced at Merlin suspiciously as they walked further into her house. “Did you actually spend all of yesterday in the tavern?”

Merlin shook his head in denial as Gwen inspected him. Her eyes widened in alarm.

“Then something’s wrong, isn’t it? Is your mother ill? There must be a reason you vanished yesterday. Why, Arthur and the knights had to leave without you!”

Merlin laughed at her spiel. “Gwen, don’t be silly! None of that matters. I need a favor.”

“It doesn’t matter?! Arthur left _without you!_ What part of this aren’t you getting?”

Merlin stopped short, her words getting through to him. “Arthur left?”

“Yes! To slay a dragon!”

“But that’s brilliant!” Merlin responded with a grin. He would have so much more time for Morgana if Arthur wasn’t around.

Gwen looked at him askance. “Let me see the back of your neck,” she said cautiously. Merlin complied, speaking again as he turned around.

“So will you do me the favor then?”

Gwen was too busy mumbling to herself to hear. “There’s nothing in your neck this time… which is good, obviously, but I was rather hoping there would be an easy solution to this. Not that the snake head was ideal, exactly, but at least we know how to deal with that. The real Merlin would be pitching a fit if he heard Arthur left to fight danger without him.” That was a bit overdramatic, Merlin thought. It wasn’t as though Arthur was in any danger from _Kilgharrah._ The dragon would say obscure things about the Once and Future King and speak in lofty, it-has-finally-come-to-pass, long-have-I-waited-to-meet-you tones; Arthur would die of frustration before he faced anything truly dangerous at Kilgharrah’s hands.

Or at least, that was the case now that Kilgharrah had already worked out his 20-plus years of anger demolishing Camelot, and Merlin had banned the dragon from causing further harm.

Gwen turned Merlin back around to address him directly. “What exactly happened to you yesterday?”

Merlin paused at her words. She was right to be suspicious, he was acting rather out-of-character for the Merlin that Gwen was accustomed to. She had no way of knowing that his entire world had shifted overnight, and with it his priorities.

He had originally written Gwen off as a confidante… Perhaps that decision had been rash. Gwen knew Morgana better than he did, except for her magic and her true motivations and what she had really been doing for a year; but Gwen and her did share a common history, and one year apart couldn’t _really_ undo all those years together. Right?

Might as well. “Guinevere,” Merlin began slowly, “I would like to let you in on a secret. But you must promise not to reveal my intentions before I’m ready. Can you do that?”

Gwen nodded her head hesitantly. “Go on.”

“The reason you think I’m acting differently today is because I am different. I’m in love with Morgana and it’s changed everything for me. I have a new purpose in life.”

Gwen looked confused. “That doesn’t make any sense, you’ve been keeping your distance from Morgana ever since she returned. We just spoke of her yesterday morning. What does that have to do with Arthur?”

Merlin smiled indulgently. “That’s why it’s alright that Arthur left me behind. Before I realized the depth of my feelings for Morgana, I fancied myself in love with Arthur. My true affections lie elsewhere now, and while Arthur is a good chap, I’m sure he can survive a few days without me. I need to focus on Morgana.”

Gwen looked stricken. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“I know, I hardly understand it myself,” Merlin sympathized. “Why didn’t I realize she was the only one earlier?”

“No, Merlin, how… you never said anything… why, you’ve supported Arthur and I more than anyone!”

“’Course I did, I could never be with Arthur. One of us ought to be happy, yeah?” Merlin elbowed Gwen in the side good-naturedly. “Rare of you to be speechless,” he teased. “Besides, I have Morgana now. Or I hope to. That’s where I need your help.”

“But… how long? How long have you loved Arthur?”

“Oh for years, but it’s in the past! Focus on the present, Gwen,” Merlin chided. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“I never even suspected, not once,” Gwen muttered almost to herself before looking at Merlin again. She was nearly in tears. “How did you keep this to yourself for so long? How did you stand it?”

Merlin wrapped Gwen in his arms for the second time in as many days. “Hush, it’s hardly the first secret I’ve kept in Camelot. There are loads of terrible things I’ve never told anyone, so this one is practically insignificant in the scheme of things! Especially now that its ceased to be true. I wish you and Arthur all the happiness in the world. But Gwen” - and here Merlin stepped back and placed his hands on her shoulders, lowering his head so that the two servants were eye-level – “I need you to do me that favor I’ve been talking about.”

She sniffed and wiped her eyes. Merlin’s revelation had wiped all thoughts of his strange behavior from her mind. “What do you need?”

Merlin explained.

\----

Kilgharrah was frustrated. He’d been flying all day and night following the traces of magic he sent out to find Merlin’s friends (harder than it sounds – had Merlin’s friends _all_ been kicked out of Camelot? Seriously?). When he finally came across Lancelot, it was only to discover that the good man had picked up a traveling companion. Kilgharrah was a mighty dragon, but he had his limits, and flying across the land at his age simply did not lend itself towards carrying, not one, but _two_ knightly men while searching for a third.

Why was Percival so large?

On the whole, Lancelot had been very quick to believe his tale and pledge his service. Upon learning of Merlin’s predicament, Lancelot’s first words had been “How can I help?” His friend Percival – the unknown element, as it were – looked doubtful and faintly alarmed by the entire exchange, but seemed to trust Lancelot’s judgement.

Kilgharrah had sent the two men riding with utmost haste towards Camelot, feeling slightly better about the latest state of affairs.

Gwaine was proving to be another matter entirely.

For one thing, Kilgharrah’s magical tracker led him to a camp of at least fifty men. Kilgharrah had assumed Gwaine was more the type to travel alone, based on Merlin’s description of him over the years.

Merlin and Kilgharrah had been making slow, hesitant progress towards repairing their relationship after the entire fiasco leading up to and including Kilgharrah’s release. They were kin, and while being kin certainly did not excuse one of all wrongdoing, it did make one slightly more amenable to forgiving said wrongdoings over time.

Merlin had been working on forgiving Kilgharrah for choosing to lay waste to Camelot as an outlet for his (quite understandable) rage at his imprisonment and the decimation of his kind, and for being “irritatingly cryptic” and “speaking in riddles”. Kilgharrah had been working on not swatting Merlin over the head or enveloping him in flames every time the warlock ignored his advice like the naïve fool he was.

In working towards this goal, ever since Kilgharrah’s freedom nearly three years ago, the dragon and the young warlock would occasionally… check in on each other, either through a mental link or face-to-face if Merlin had time to escape the castle. As such, Kilgharrah knew a fair amount about nearly all the going-ons in the castle, and quite a lot more about Merlin’s friends.

So he was surprised to track Gwaine to an encampment leagues from the nearest village, when the young warlock’s account of him seemed to paint the man as a people-person. There was no reason for Gwaine to stray so far from a town and the comforts they offer, and to willingly bog himself down with a slower pace of travel by going with so many? Most strange.

Then Kilgharrah flew closer and realized it was a camp composed mostly of bandits, and Gwaine appeared to be their prisoner. Ah. Not so strange after all.

But certainly inconvenient.

He was not about to explain to Gwaine that the future of Albion depended on him while the man was in a camp of outlaws. It offended his sensibilities. He would take Gwaine elsewhere first.

Kilgharrah descended upon the camp with all the finesse of a rampaging dragon, which is to say not much, and burned a few bandits to a crisp for good measure before gripping Gwaine in his claws. Gwaine had somehow managed to both free and arm himself amidst the chaos prior to being swooped up; he was now shouting and attempting to hack off Kilgharrah’s arm while being dangled upside-down.

It tickled a bit. Kilgharrah shook the man in an attempt to get him to drop his sword and accidentally knocked him out as well. Oops.

The dragon left the destroyed camp behind and began the flight back to Camelot with an unconscious Gwaine in tow.

He would be having severe words with the young warlock once this situation was set to rights.

\------

Morgana heard a knock on her door followed by a soft “my lady?” She smirked. She had summoned Merlin to her chambers, ostensibly for one of Gaius’s potions, but the real reason was far more satisfying.

Merlin would be reduced to a dog doing her bidding in no time. She wondered, would he literally grovel on his knees for her affection? This will be the most fun she’s had in months.

“Enter,” she called out.

Merlin came into her chambers hesitantly, as though unsure of his welcome. As the traitor damn well should be.

The love potion Morgause had finally decided upon allowed Merlin to retain almost all of his original personality. It wouldn’t do to have him roam around as obviously as Arthur does when enchanted, declaring his feelings for the King’s ward to all of Camelot (and oh, she was closer to the king than anyone knew). Uther would throw a servant courting his daughter in the dungeons quicker than a suspected sorcerer, and what good is a spy behind bars?

“Merlin” she drawled as he closed the door behind him.

“My lady,” he said again while bowing. An actual bow. And the way he said “my lady” made it sound like a term of respect rather than his usual thinly veiled distaste. Morgana was delighted.

“You have the potion I asked for?”

“I do.” Merlin glanced at the bottle in his hand, and then glanced back up at her. She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. His eyes tracked the movement.

“Set it on the table.”

Merlin moved to her bedside slowly, never taking his eyes off her. That would have been nothing new – since her return he had been on his guard whenever she entered a room – but something was different this time. He seemed less wary and more… awed.

“Where’s Gwen?” he asked.

“She’s running errands in the lower town. She won’t be back until the evening.”

“Right,” Merlin muttered, fidgeting. “Right then,” he repeated louder. “Um. That potion won’t help you.”

“Oh?” Morgana fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Did you poison it too?”

Merlin paled. “No! No, I would never!”

Morgana tilted her head at him in amusement and waited for him to hear the inherent falseness of his words. It was fascinating how quickly he could blush when moments ago he had been white as a sheet. Merlin swiftly corrected. “I mean, I did poison you once, but I wouldn’t again. I don’t know how I ever thought saving Camelot was worth your life. Your life is worth more than anything to me, anything at all,” he stammered, before hesitatingly tacking on yet another “my lady” at the end of his words.

The love potion was absolutely in effect. This was better than the time she beat Arthur at swords.

 “Why should I believe you?”

“I seek to prove it to you,” he replied solemnly.

Excellent. Merlin would bend himself backwards to make her happy; he would do anything she asked of him to “prove” he was a changed man. Morgause and she had already discussed how to best use a love-addled prince’s manservant for their goals; she would test the water with something small first, perhaps order Merlin to steal some coin from another servant’s paycheck or something equally petty. She wanted to make sure Merlin had no qualms about sacrificing his morals for her before she incorporated him into the larger plan. Time to play her role.

“And how will you do that?” she asked, ready to take his “whatever you ask of me” or some-variation-thereof response and warp it to her wishes.

“I will teach you to control your magic.”

Morgana froze. Merlin took it as his cue to keep speaking. “Look, your magic manifests itself less when you suppress it, but it really only serves to make the outbursts that slip through that much more severe. Your magic needs an outlet. If you try to keep it locked within you, you’ll go mad!”

It seemed she was already going mad. Her ex-friend, who had at first refused to even acknowledge the possibility of her magic existing, was now suggesting that he had the skills and knowledge to _teach her of it._ She, who had been training under a High Priestess of the Old Religion for over a year, be taught magic by Merlin, who was widely acknowledged as the most useless servant in Camelot.

Merlin was continuing. “I know you’re probably not… keen on the idea, but I think it could really help you. I grew up around magic, if you remember Ealdor and my friend Will, and I have a thorough spellbook. I’m sure Morgause has shown you some stuff but if you have to sneak out of the castle just to talk to her, you can’t have learnt anything recently. Let me do this for you,” he pleaded.

Morgana had expected Merlin to be putty in her hands, to mold as she saw fit. She had expected weak attempts to woo her with flowers and poetry whilst doing her bidding. She had half-expected Merlin to be a gibbering mess whenever he attempted to speak to her.

 _This_ was something else entirely.

Morgana opened her mouth to scoff, to laugh, to twist the situation back to her advantage and instead found herself asking “if you had the means, why didn’t you help me from the start?”

Her voice sounded very small, she noted from a distance. Merlin had apparently been comfortable with magic his whole life and had still left her to flounder in the dark, alone and afraid. She couldn’t decide if she was more furious or devastated and settled on feeling numb instead.

Merlin had known his Ealdor friend was a sorcerer before that grand whirlwind reveal? He’d _grown up_ with magic? _Spellbook?_

How dare he? How _could_ he?

Merlin sounded wrecked as he answered, “I never wanted to hurt you. Not then, and gods, especially not now. Poisoning you is not my only crime. When you first confided in me, I listened to my head instead of my heart, I didn’t open myself to you in return. And more than that, I was so afraid,” his voice broke on the word, “that my trust in you might be misplaced. You had tried to kill Uther before. I worried you might behave rashly, that you wouldn’t care about the consequences so long as you felt wrongs were set to right. I let my fear override my concern for you. I am so sorry for the wrongs I have done to you, and I cannot express the depth of my regret.”

Merlin was actually crying, she noted incredulously. And had somehow gravitated towards her during his little speech to gently hold her hands in his.

And was lowering himself to a knee on the floor.

“Please, my lady, let me make amends,” he said, looking up at her desperately. Merlin was literally begging at her feet, just as she had hoped the potion would induce him to do. Yet she felt oddly unfulfilled by the picture. And more than a little wrong-footed.

She was confused, and this was exactly what Morgause had warned her about! She was allowing Merlin’s enchanted self to play on her emotions. Gods, how _pathetic_ of her to have nearly fallen for it so soon. Of course Merlin would give his all towards gaining her forgiveness, he was under a spell. That she had put on him. Because he was a treacherous piece of scum who had tried to kill her, and – as his latest words showed – he apparently lied to and neglected her even earlier than that.

His (falsely) heartfelt words were too little too late. She would let him teach her magic.

And then she would use that magic to destroy him.

\----

Merlin leaned against the wall outside of Morgana’s chamber after she dismissed him. He had so incredibly far to go to win her love, and while he may have laid the groundwork today it only formed the barest of foundations.

It was disheartening to realize again the extent to which Morgana did not love him back. She had spoken to him with derision, anger, even hurt. He could hardly bear to think on it. And that was only her half of the conversation! He had wanted so badly to reveal his magic to her and show his beloved everything that he could offer.

Instead he had lied by omission. Yet again.

He knew, he _knew_ , that holding off on the whole “surprise! I’m magical too!” conversation was for the best. She had hardly heard him out today as it was; she would hate him forever if she learned of his magic at this point. Even so, it had taken all of his willpower and strength to phrase his words in a way that shaped Will as the sorcerer instead of himself.

Good thing he had plenty of practice at deceiving people.

But he wasn’t going to think of that now. He would keep his chin up and slowly win Morgana over, and as soon as she could look at him without hatred in her eyes, he would tell her of his magic and lay himself on her mercy. Once there were no more secrets between them, he could confess his love!

Gods, he was exhausted. He felt emotionally wrung out and drained of energy, and he wanted nothing more than to stay by Morgana’s side. He knew he had duties to attend to, like keeping up with Gaius’s work while he was away and preparing for Arthur’s eventual return, but it seemed far more important to be near his lady, should she need him.

He spent an idle half-hour watching the path of a sunbeam creep across the stone as he mused over Morgana’s perfection.

\---

Gwaine regained consciousness with aching slowness. Literally aching. His shoulder hurt, his arm was full of pins and needles, and for some reason he felt uncomfortably cold. His body was in desperate need of a massage, and maybe a second, warmer body to heat him up. There had been that one girl – Greta? Beta? – who had given him the most incredible massage. Gwaine grinned at the recollection. He was such hot stuff.

He blearily opened his eyes.

He was in the sky. Godsabovehewas _inthesky._ Gwaine looked down and saw the forest hundreds of feet below him.

Okay. Not his best idea. Don’t look there. Gwaine craned his head to look up instead.

_DRAGON HE WAS BEING CARRIED BY A DRAGON THERE WERE TALONS AROUND HIS TORSO AND A DRAGON OVER HIS HEAD DRAGON!!!!_

Aloud he mumbled to himself, “You’ve really done it this time.”

The dragon bent its head and peered at him. “Aha! I thought I heard you awaken. We have much to discuss, young warrior.”

Gwaine barely held in a shriek. The dragon could talk.

“Let us land so I may explain our predicament. I trust you will not do anything foolish, like attempt to run away the moment your feet touch the ground, as we have little time to waste and I am not a patient being.”

Running away had been priority one for Gwaine. Damn. The dragon was smart.

It turned out that running of any kind was a moot point. The dragon deposited Gwaine in a forest clearing and his legs, already half-numb from the chilling airstream, collapsed underneath him. In his defense, he was still a little shaken from being _kidnapped by a great big bloody dragon._ Gwaine spared half a thought to be glad Arthur wasn’t here to witness Gwaine sitting on the ground like a child in front of the creature. It was embarrassing.

 “My name is Kilgharrah. I am a friend, not a foe. Albion requires your assistance. Without you the land and its people will be doomed,” the dragon began.

“I thought all the dragons were dead,” Gwaine said when he realized a response was expected.

The dragon – Kilgharrah – noted him with disdain. “Merlin commended many of your attributes, but he never did brag about your brain. I am standing before you, am I not?”

“You know Merlin?” Gwaine stumbled to his feet. “Did you hurt him? I’ll kill you!”

Kilgharrah grinned. “That is the spirit I was hoping to see. We will get along well, you and I.”

\---

So apparently Merlin was a sorcerer, who had been voluntarily living in Camelot (of all the places for a sorcerer to hide?? If this Morgause chick didn't kill him, Gwaine would), and had been magically induced to be head-over-heels for the evil's chick's sister. Said sister was also the king's ward Morgana, who Gwaine definitely remembered seeing during his brief stint in Camelot and was disappointed to hear had turned evil as well.

Kilgharrah had a difficult time describing Morgana to him, as he only seemed able to use the phrase "exquisite young woman" when talking about her. If Gwaine weren't still slightly terrified of the dragon, he would have laughed. As it was, he merely made a mental note to congratulate Merlin on his turn of phrase.

Gwaine and Kilgharrah had carried on talking as they continued towards Camelot. Gwaine was riding on Kilgharrah's back. It was fantastic. He had been learning all sorts of things this past hour. Exhibit A: Merlin was a Dragonlord in addition to possessing super powerful magic. Trust Merlin to overdo it.

Gwaine remembered the man on the bridge calling him "strength" back on Arthur's ill-advised quest; he hadn't wandered that far off when he heard the man dub Merlin "magic". Of course, he hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now... now it damn well made sense. Everything about Merlin made more sense. He commended Merlin for getting away with it every day.

Exhibit B: Being a Dragonlord must be awesome. After getting over his initial reluctance to be around a mythical creature who could easily kill him, the two were really bonding. Gwaine was the type of person who could talk to a wall. He had a million questions for a dragon.

Primarily, though, he was worried for his friend. Magic or no, Merlin was _Merlin._ Kind, funny, heart of gold, didn't put up with Gwaine's shit but genuinely cared about him too, and was just plain _good_ to his core. Merlin was the best friend Gwaine had in this world. He wasn't going to lose him without a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur will be back next chapter! About the time delay, seems I drastically underestimated how long it takes me to write. Upside is there's a definite plot now! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana's making progress. Gwaine, not so much.

Morgana and Merlin were to have their first magic lesson that evening, and Merlin had been infuriatingly cryptic about the entire ordeal. He refused to meet in either her chambers or Gaius’s, regardless of the physician’s continuing absence, out of fear that “anyone could walk in, and then where would we be?!”. Instead she was following a (surprisingly well-drawn) map that Merlin had given her. He had assured her no one would find them.

Glancing around at her dreary surroundings, Morgana was inclined to agree. She had never been this far down the dungeons before, and the stone walls of the corridor were becoming increasingly rough and ill-hewn.

Morgana turned a corner and came upon a massive cave, stretching further than her eyes could see. She had no idea the tunnels below Camelot ran this deep. Merlin was sitting on a ledge in front of her. She noted with surprise that the ledge looked quite plush – there were rugs and pillows and a number of lamps strewn about the small space.

“How did you ever find this place?” Morgana exclaimed.

Merlin startled and looked up at her before jumping to his feet. “Morgana! Here – let me -” he seated her on the largest pillow before settling himself opposite her and continuing with a breathless, “You came.”

“You didn’t believe me?”

Merlin looked embarrassed. “I wasn’t sure if you would give me the benefit of the doubt, after everything.” He ducked his head down and brought it back up again, grinning. “But you’re here.”

“So I am,” Morgana said, amused by how easy Merlin was to please. “Care to explain how you managed to find a nook of the castle that even Arthur and I overlooked growing up?” She gestured to the elaborate trappings surrounding them. “And such a decent one, at that.”

Merlin looked more abashed, now. “I – er – I’m going to return the stuff, obviously. I’ve just borrowed it. Temporarily. It was all just heaped in a spare room and castle inventory’s not for months, so. Really a waste not to nick it, yeah? And I couldn’t just sit you on the ground!”

“Trying to impress me, Merlin?” Morgana teased.

Merlin blushed. “Yes,” he admitted, “plus it’s easier to do magic when you’re comfortable.”

The mood shifted. Morgana chided herself for being so easily disarmed by Merlin’s presence. She was here to satisfy her curiosity, not make small talk with the man who tried to kill her. A coward’s weapon, poison. “How do you plan to teach me magic when you have none yourself?” she demanded.

In response, Merlin handed her a large book he procured from underneath another pillow. She turned the heavy tome over in her hands. It reeked of old magic.

“What is this?” she whispered.

“Spell-book.”

“How did you come by it?” Morgana asked intently as she flipped through the pages. Morgause had never shared such a treasure with her, if she had one.

“I’ve had it for years.”

Morgana was too absorbed in the text to pay much attention to the briefness of Merlin’s responses. The book was written in the Old Tongue… tricky, but not unmanageable. She had been learning the language on and off since Morgause had rescued her, though her sister concentrated more on Morgana’s actual spellcraft than grammar lessons. What was the purpose of this spell, exactly…?

She carefully said the words of the spell and waited.

Nothing happened.

Merlin leaned forward. “What are you thinking about?” he asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” Morgana said distracted, trying to puzzle out the wording of the spell. She looked up when Merlin laughed. It was a kind laugh, not a cruel one, but it rankled her nerves all the same.

“You can’t do magic if you don’t know what it should be doing. You have to have intent.” Merlin gently pulled the spell-book from her hands and looked over the page she was on. “I don’t know that you want to do this spell right from the start. It breaks things.”

“Breaks things?” Morgana repeated incredulously. “What do you mean, breaks things?”

“Like, snapping branches off a tree.”

“What use is that? Firewood?”

“Well… it could knock out your opponent in battle, for example. If you’re fighting under a tree.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Morgana scoffed. “An ineffective tactic like that can’t possibly work all the time. What would this spell do to a person?”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to repeat things. “What do you mean, to a person?”

“If it knocks a limb off of a tree, shouldn’t it knock an arm off of a person?” Morgana quizzed.

Merlin froze for a moment with the most peculiar look on his face – Morgana would have called it “horror” on anyone else, but nothing she said could horrify someone enchanted to love her – before Merlin visibly shook his head and relaxed again. “It would be a rather cruel method of fighting to employ, should you ever decide to try it. Probably provides messier results than you would like.” He gently took the book from her hands and flipped back to the beginning. “Try this one. It makes light.”

Morgana focused and said the words.

Still nothing.

Was Merlin’s “spell-book” some elaborate hoax to win her over? She held out her hand and said the words once more, frustrated when light again failed to materialize. She shoved the book at Merlin angrily. “This book is useless,” she hissed. “You dare lie to me about this?”

Merlin was stunned. “You’ve only tried it twice!” he protested. “I’ve – sometimes it takes hours, days even, to learn a spell properly! You have to be rigorous and really study, magic’s not something you can snap your fingers about and expect it to simply hop to your command,” he chided, before his tone softened. “What were you thinking about this time, with the magic?”

Morgana was taken aback. Morgause said that Morgana couldn’t do the stronger spells yet because her magic was too weak. Yet here Merlin said all she needed was more practice…?

But what did Merlin know, anyways? He hadn’t done her any good so far.

“I was thinking of light,” Morgana murmured, “obviously.”

“But what kind of light?” Merlin pressed. “You need to picture it. Think of a warm glowing or a, a bright happiness, something soft. Use your feelings to add direction to your magic.”

Morgana said the words again to no effect.

“Close your eyes this time,” Merlin requested.

_Why not,_ Morgana thought and closed her eyes. She proceeded to reflect briefly on the fact that, were Merlin not enchanted at the moment, Morgana closing her eyes when alone with Merlin on a ledge might have resulted in him pushing her off of it. Perhaps that was overdoing it; Merlin had avoided the direct approach the last time he tried to kill her. The last time he tried to kill her… She said the words and opened her eyes.

There was a small orb of light floating in front of her. It looked… wrong.

Merlin cautiously leaned towards it before rethinking his action and drawing back. Morgana wanted to draw back as well. The light was a dim, sickly shade of green that flickered malevolently before abruptly vanishing.

“What were you thinking about?” Merlin whispered.

_The pain of betrayal. The nausea of poison. The loss of a friend._

_Being suddenly, entirely alone against the world._

Morgana stood up.

“I think that’s enough for today,” she said, avoiding Merlin’s question. “I’ll be missed at the castle for dinner. I need to head back.”

Merlin looked up, confused. “We’ve not been here half an hour,” he said.

Morgana was already gone.

\---

Dawn was on the horizon by the time Kilgharrah finished explaining Gwaine’s task of keeping Merlin, and what seemed by extension the entire world (wasn’t Albion a myth?) safe. Conversation between the dragon and his rider had eventually died out as the enormity of Merlin’s secrets really hit Gwaine. Merlin was in danger every minute he stayed within Camelot’s walls. There was zero reason for his friend to be there!

Except there was one reason, wasn’t there. Arthur didn’t deserve him.

Gwaine was jolted out of his musings as Kilgharrah began a series of sudden dips in the air.

 “Whoa there mate! You got the hiccups or something?” Gwaine joked.

Kilgharrah let out a snore.

Gwaine came to the uncomfortable realization that the prospect of hiccupping dragons paled next to the far more alarming prospect of sleep-walking dragons. Sleep-flying? He carefully inched his way up Kilgharrah’s neck to a position where he could tug hard on the dragon’s ears. Kilgharrah startled awake.

“What do you think you are doing,” Kilgharrah asked flatly, in a way that wasn’t really a question at all.

Gwaine threw his hands up in a cautious gesture before realizing he needed both hands to stay seated in place, and that Kilgharrah couldn’t see his body language from this angle anyways.

“Don’t sound so peeved! You fell asleep!” he said defensively.

“I have been flying for nearly 3 days straight. Even dragons are not infallible,” Kilgharrah intoned, in the deep voice that Gwaine had gathered was used for imparting great and monumental truths.

Gwaine cooed. “You can just admit you’re sleepy. Does widdle Kil-Kil need nap time?”

In response, the dragon flipped upside down; Gwaine knew a split-second of confusion before realizing that he was plummeting _very fast_ out of the sky. Gwaine fell to his almost-death before Kilgharrah caught the man in his claws at the last moment, cackling. Gwaine simultaneously resolved to work on Kilgharrah’s sense of humor and to never joke with him again.

Gwaine eventually convinced Kilgharrah to land for just a few hours so that the dragon could rest. Which led to Gwaine’s current situation: standing watch over an empty clearing – well, empty except for the giant mythical ( _snoring_ )creature – and overthinking every aspect of Merlin’s life.

Gwaine needed a game plan. He didn’t often admit when he was out of his element, but this - this called for serious strategizing. Some way of navigating through the days ahead without blowing Merlin’s cover sky-high.

A simple, straightforward game plan.

By the time Kilgharrah woke up, Gwaine had worked out that A. nothing was ever simple or straightforward when it came to Merlin, and B. that he himself was probably more suited to improvising than planning, on the whole.

He said as much to Kilgharrah.

The dragon laughed, a rough throaty sound that Gwaine was still struggling to associate with humor instead of impending death. “Young warrior, your strengths are greater than you realize,” the dragon said kindly. “But in this regard, I have a plan.”

Kilgharrah filled Gwaine in on said plan as they took to the skies again.

They were flying back towards Arthur and his men. The knights were tracking the dragon on horseback, which was as efficient a process as it sounded – Gwaine hoped Arthur realized that no matter how well-trained his knights are, a horse cannot keep pace with a dragon. The best Camelot’s knights could hope for was damage control in the event that the dragon attacked any villages.

Gwaine thought briefly back to the slaver camp that Kilgharrah had decimated. No one would be missing that.

Kilgharrah alighted in the forest and ducked low to let Gwaine slide to the ground. The wonderful, stable ground that Gwaine would never take for granted again. He got on his hands and knees and kissed it.

“When you are quite finished,” Kilgharrah said. “I will draw Arthur’s men to you. The rest is in your hands. Do not disappoint your destiny.”

With those reassuring words, the dragon took off into the sky. He roared excessively while spitting flames into the air as he left, which Gwaine thought was overly theatrical and slightly terrifying. Kilgharrah insisted it was necessary to attract Arthur’s knights to Gwaine’s location.

Gwaine was beginning to think the Great Dragon was a bit of a drama queen.

He settled himself comfortably against a tree and waited for the boys in red to find him.

\---

Morgana whispered the spell and watched expectantly as a small, wispy light flickered in her hand. She had banished everyone from her chambers, feigning illness, and spent the morning performing the spell for light from Merlin’s book. She couldn’t get what Merlin had said the night before out of her mind, about magic requiring practice and concentration. So much of her own magic was instinctual; Morgause had never pushed her to control it beyond her natural talents.

She could throw a grown man across a clearing with a thought, so why couldn’t she make a small light?

Then again, her magic defends her best under duress. When she is angry or frightened, she can feel her magic stirring beneath her skin; it is the work of a moment to direct it at her enemies. This light business is different. She’s not experiencing the heightened rush that usually accompanies a fight or a powerful vision - even during the mildest of Morgause’s lessons, there is adrenaline and intensity.

Merlin wants her to do magic with a clear mind and calm head. _Use your feelings to add direction to your magic._

Gwen had seemed concerned about her mistress’s well-being when Morgana had shooed her away after breakfast, but then that was nothing new; Gwen was constantly hovering around Morgana since she returned from her year-long absence.

It would have been a flattering reassurance of Gwen’s enduring friendship, but Morgana knew better. Gwen had no idea who Morgana was now. Their relationship was a façade; Morgana was unwilling to trust Gwen with her secrets, and Gwen would never be so tactless as to press the matter beyond her hesitant enquiries on Morgana’s welfare. As far as Gwen knew, Morgana had escaped from her kidnappers a changed woman, and that was the end of it.

Morgana glanced over towards the window from her position on the bed. Gwen was probably using the time off this morning to help those in need in the Lower Town, or do something else sickeningly selfless and giving.

Morgana muttered the words of the light spell on autopilot, thinking about Gwen and her big stupid heart.

And promptly reared back in surprise. A steady orb of light was floating gently above her hands. It was a calming purple color and showed no signs of disappearing soon.

This was new.

Morgana experimented.

Gwen and her picking wildflowers.

Vibrant, cheerful lavender light.

Gwen and her sneaking in sword practice whenever Morgana’s tutors thought she was studying.

Sly, playful maroon.

Gwen distrusting and fearing magic like everyone did in this godforsaken kingdom.

Shaky, turbulent violet light that lurched forward before sputtering out.

By the end of the next hour, Morgana had a room full of varying shades of light, all gently glowing and radiating peace and safety. She was more relaxed than she had since before her magical nightmares had begun manifesting years ago. Merlin had been right. Her magic was tied to her mood.

She was also exhausted. Every last inch of magic felt wrung out of her. It was an effort to stand up from her position on the bed, and she only wound up sliding to the floor anyways.

She ought to feel more concerned about the fact that all of the lights she had created while remembering fonder times had yet to fade away. Morgana closed her eyes as she tried to recall why it mattered if her room was filled with magic. She was just so tired… and besides, her lights were pretty. Everyone should want to see them.

She blindly reached a hand above her, grasping for a loose blanket and pulling it off the bed. She wrapped it around herself as she settled more comfortably on the floor. She idly noted that her magical bracelet – wonderful gift from Morgause - was sitting on her bedside table rather than on her wrist, but had the oddest feeling that her sleep would remain uninterrupted by visions regardless.

 She drifted to sleep with a smile on her face, the lights twinkling above her.

\---

Gwaine could finally hear the knights charging towards him. He slowly straightened up from where he had been sitting against a tree for nearly twenty minutes. It was a large tree, comfortable and wider than Gwaine could wrap his arms around, with the added bonus of being thoroughly rooted in the earth and incapable of flight. Not that he minded the flying. Riding dragonback was bloody fantastic. It just so happened that Gwaine had recently come to the realization that things firmly attached to the ground are also bloody fantastic. This tree, in particular, was fantastic, and had provided Gwaine with his most peaceful twenty minutes since before he was captured by slavers weeks ago.

He leaned his head against the bark and tried to savor one last quiet moment.

It was no use. Arthur’s men were almost upon him, if the clanking armor and yelling were anything to go by. Gwaine stepped out from behind the tree to announce himself -

\- and promptly stepped back behind it, just in time to avoid an overeager knight barreling into him sword point-first.

“Arthur!” Gwaine bellowed, grinning. “What kind of training are your knights getting these days?”

He lost the grin as the knight who had nearly spitted him whirled around – point-first _again,_ dammit – and Gwaine exercised all his considerable flexibility and reflexes to dodge the young man’s sword for a second time. Gwaine’s acrobatics ended in him commandeering the young knight’s sword, as it was surely in safer hands with him, and the knight in question nervously backed against Gwaine’s tree.

“Perhaps you’d best return Bedivere’s sword,” Arthur said from behind him.

Gwaine turned. “Princess! Imagine running into you here!” He handed the young knight’s sword back, which Bedivere accepted warily, before stepping closer to Arthur for a manly bro-hug. It went something like 1. clasp arms, 2. draw close to one another, 3. thump back with free hand, or it would have done if three other knights had not suddenly closed in with swords raised the moment Gwaine stepped towards Arthur.

Gwaine stepped back slowly, arms raised in a gesture of goodwill. “Alright, perhaps your knights are good at their jobs after all,” Gwaine conceded.

Arthur smirked. “’Course they are. I trained them.” He gestured to his men to stand down before continuing in a more severe tone of voice. “Gwaine, what are you doing here? This is Camelot land and Uther’s never lifted your banishment.” He paused for a moment as he took in Gwaine’s full appearance, incredulous. “Are you seriously traveling unarmed?”

Gwaine looked slightly contrite, and try as he might he couldn’t help but look disgruntled too. He had disagreed with Kilgharrah on this part of the plan, but the dragon was insistent, and if Merlin’s life was on the line…

“I’ve come to join your father’s court.”

Arthur barked a laugh. “As if.”

“I’m serious. My full name is Gwaine Green of House Green, of Caerleon’s kingdom. Caerleon betrayed my father’s memory after he perished in battle, and in doing so convinced me that all nobles are power-hungry liars. I abandoned my birthright and have been wandering since. But I’m tired of watching the lords in other lands ignore injustice and bandits and slavers if it only affects the peasants and not their posh arses.”

Gwaine got on one knee, didn’t quite bow his head, and lifted up the proof of his lineage, a small family crest he had never done away with. “You’re different, and your knights are different, and your kingdom is different. I want in.”

Arthur, to his credit, was expressionless. “It’s not my kingdom yet.”

Gwaine stayed stoic. “It will be.”

A few beats of silence more passed, and then Arthur broke it by hauling Gwaine up to his feet again and completing their bro-hug. “It will be an honor to count you among my men. Camelot will be the better for it,” Arthur said, smiling broadly. “You’ve caught us mid-patrol. We’re tracking a dragon and made a breakthrough not half an hour ago. As you don’t have a sword…” – here Arthur let his words linger, waiting for Gwaine to provide some explanation for this very basic oversight. Gwaine shrugged his shoulders in a _it-was-one-of-those-things, what’s-a-man-to-do-eh?_ gesture. Arthur continued. “…I don’t know that it’s wise for you to hunt this beast with us.”

Gwaine cut in. He and Kilgharrah had planned for this as well. “Why don’t you send a knight or two back to Camelot with me? They can accompany me to my audience with the King and vouch for my word.”

Arthur suddenly looked, there was no other word for it, _shifty._ He needed to track down the dragon and prevent it from terrorizing any of his people. Even though so far the only thing the dragon had done was fly away from people. This was his duty as Camelot’s Prince.

Arthur also really, really didn’t like the idea of Gwaine alone (with Merlin) in Camelot. He remembered how flirty Gwaine could be (with Merlin), and that after Gwaine had recovered (in Merlin’s bed) during his first time in Camelot, he had overdone it on the town and… and… and Arthur needed to get a grip, because petty jealousy was one thing, and petty jealousy over something that may never have even happened was something else entirely, and so much for keeping a level head and not allowing Merlin’s confession to affect him.

He wasn’t even being fair to Gwaine. It wasn’t like he would go around seducing every woman (and Merlin) in Camelot if Arthur wasn’t there to supervise him. Gwaine had honor. Arthur had just accepted the man as one of his knights, for crying out loud! There was no reason for Arthur to personally accompany Gwaine back to Camelot.

“I will personally accompany you back to Camelot,” Arthur said aloud, and winced a little inside.

Gwaine and Leon both opened their mouths to protest this. Leon was quicker.

“My Lord, I think it might be wiser for you to stay with the patrol,” Leon said, concerned.

_Thank goodness one of us sees sense,_ Arthur thought.

“Nonsense,” Arthur said. “Leon, you are fully capable of leading this patrol in my stead. The dragon flew away, as it has been doing for several days now. It has yet to attack a single Camelot citizen and we cannot outpace it on horseback. Frankly, it’s not behaving like we expected. I would have words with Gaius on why this might be so, and what the implications could be.”

Leon instantly straightened. “You fear something may be amiss in Camelot?”

“I want to know what kind of magic can tame a dragon,” Arthur said darkly, with a hint of despair at his superb ability to rationalize his actions and channel leadership in all situations. There was no getting out of this now.

Arthur finalized instructions with Leon for the men and managed to reinvigorate the entire patrol within a manner of minutes. He eventually parted from them to join the smaller return party of Gwaine and a few knights.

Gwaine was not entirely certain how this turn of events had happened, but it definitely bucked Kilgharrah’s intended events. Arthur, with his stubborn sense of pride and duty, was supposed to absolutely continue following the dragon’s trail. Then Kilgharrah would swoop in and kidnap the princess, keeping him out of harm’s way until Gwaine, Gaius, and this Lancelot fellow managed to negate Morgana’s love spell, save Merlin from her clutches, and rescue Albion from a supposedly gruesome and dark fate.

Instead, Arthur insisted on screwing everything up. By the time Kilgharrah realized Arthur was no longer with the patrol, it would be too late. Arthur would be back within Camelot’s walls and Morgana’s reach, and he wasn’t about to let anyone tell him otherwise.

Gwaine knew there was a reason he hated the nobility.

\---

Gwen hummed as she walked into Morgana’s chambers, having taken good use of her morning off. She looked around to see if Morgana needed her yet (why did Morgana keep dismissing her unexpectedly?) and froze. Orbs of light were drifting all around the room. This was clearly magical, she ought to call the guards. Gwen suddenly caught sight of her lady passed out on the floor. She rushed over and dropped down beside Morgana, taking note of her rising and falling chest. Still breathing, still alive, thank the gods.

“Morgana, _Morgana_ ,” Gwen said intently, her hands on Morgana’s shoulders as she attempted to rouse her. “Can you hear me? Morgana, what’s happened? Are you alright?”

Morgana stirred. “Morgause? Is that you?”

Gwen stilled.

Morgana smiled blearily, her eyes still closed. “Sister, I had the most wonderful breakthrough with my magic today. Nothing like our work together last year.”

Gwen dared not breathe. Morgana shifted slightly and nestled further in her blanket. “I’ll show you later. ‘m so tired…” She slipped back into sleep easily.

Gwen slowly stood up and edged towards the door. Morgana had magic. Morgana worked with Morgause. She called Morgause “sister”. Morgana had magic, and the evidence was floating all around Gwen’s head. This was… Morgana was…

She backed out of Morgana’s chambers just in time to catch Uther coming up the hall. The sight of the King jolted Gwen out her temporary haze. She had enough revelations to handle without throwing Uther and his magical paranoia on top of them, thank you very much. Gwen pulled herself together and hid her emotional distress with the ease of one who daily interacts with a man who killed her father. She shut Morgana’s chamber door and stood at attention to greet the King.

“Guinevere!” Uther greeted warmly as he came to a stop opposite her in the hallway. “I was just coming to see if Morgana would fancy an afternoon stroll with me.” Uther had been doting on his ward excessively since her return and often sought her company in the afternoons. He waited patiently for Gwen to move out of the way of Morgana’s chamber door.

Gwen stayed right where she was. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible today, Sire,” Gwen said apologetically. “Morgana’s taken ill.”

Uther’s easy geniality instantly flowed away, replaced by concern and brittle fear. “Ill with what? How is she? I must see her.”

“Ah, that’s not possible either, my Lord,” Gwen stammered, faking embarrassment. “The Lady Morgana has a fever and as such is not, er, appropriately dressed for visitors.”

Uther appeared wrong-footed, but not for long. “I will send men for Gaius immediately. You will tend to her in the meantime,” he ordered imperiously.

 “Of course,” Gwen replied. “I was just on my way to the physician’s quarters to get some supplies, and then I will stay right by her side.”

Uther nodded, satisfied with this, and strode off to recall Gaius from his village work.

Gwen watched him go, her mind whirring. She didn’t need the physician’s quarters. She needed someplace to think.


	5. Chapter 5

The weak morning light coming through the castle windows signified yet another dreary winter day but did nothing to alter Merlin’s happy state of mind. He was practically bouncing down the hallway because Morgana had sought him out late yesterday evening to learn more magic from him. 

He didn’t notice Gwen hurrying to catch up until she managed to plant herself in front of him. Merlin came to a startled halt. “Gwen? Everything alright?” He looked anxiously at her determined pose. The last time Gwen had looked that purposeful, Merlin had found himself being dragged to the tailor for a new shirt; his old shirt had been just fine, thank you, even if it was a bit threadbare and three years old. Although maybe it was time to visit the tailor again - he was trying to wow Morgana, after all, and her fashion sense was always impeccable. He had some time this afternoon...

“Merlin. I need to talk to you,” Gwen said, and with a start Merlin realized he was being dragged into an alcove off the hallway. 

“You remember when you ran into me a few days ago? And we talked about how Morgana seems different?” Gwen asked in a hushed tone. Merlin frowned as he thought back to a time before he’d realized that Morgana was his one true love. “I suppose,” he responded.

Gwen glanced nervously around, double-checking that the hallway was clear, before leaning in closer. “It’s more serious than I’d realized. Much more serious. She’s… she’s changed. She’s not the Morgana we knew anymore.”

Merlin smiled dreamily. ”I know. She’s better.”

“No!” Gwen exclaimed, before slapping a hand over her mouth and looking around to see if anyone had heard. The hallway was still empty. She repeated herself in a whisper, “No, she’s not... Merlin, something’s gone terribly wrong. She’s working with Morgause, I heard her. But Uther would never believe me, and Arthur and Gaius aren’t here, and that’s not even the worst of it.” Merlin didn’t know it was possible for Gwen to speak more quietly, but she did. “Merlin, she did magic.” Gwen gazed at Merlin with wide, concerned eyes, her words hanging between them.

Merlin stared right back, momentarily overcome with the oddest feeling of relief. Gwen finally knew the truth and they could tackle Morgana’s betrayal together - 

Gwen stared in concern as Merlin froze up - did his eyes just flash red or was that a trick of the light? He shook his head as if clearing it of wayward thoughts before glancing back at her, a bit confused himself.

“Erm. So what?” Merlin asked. “You’re making it sound like some big thing.”

Beyond disbelief did not convey what Gwen was feeling. “It is a big thing! Merlin! Morgause is trying to take over Camelot! Morgana is helping her! With magic! How is this not a big thing?” Gwen demanded.

“Well,” Merlin said diplomatically, “perhaps it’s a matter of perspective.”

“You’re not concerned,” Gwen realized.

“Why would I be?” Merlin answered.

\---

Gwen watched Merlin walk away, trying to shake away the shock. Merlin would never brush off her concerns so casually. 

But he had. 

So. Something was wrong. It couldn’t be that dreaded snake head thing again - she’d checked his neck for it not two days ago when he’d been acting oddly. Two days ago… when Merlin had confessed his love for Morgana to her. Morgana, who was working with Morgause. Morgause who’d cruelly enchanted Merlin once before (at least once that Gwen knew about - how often did Merlin get tangled up in these things?). And that’s not even getting into what Morgause had done to Arthur and her brother in the past.

That evil bitch kept trying to destroy everyone and everything Gwen held dear.

Gwen ran after Merlin. “Wait!”

The manservant turned in surprise. Gwen caught up to him and clung to his arm to make sure he stayed put long enough to listen to her.

“I’d almost forgotten,” Gwen stammered, hoping against hope that she could make this believable. “Why don’t you come by the forge tonight and you can see if the jewelry is suitable?”

Merlin grinned, “You’ve finished it? The favor I asked you for a few days ago? That’s quick!” 

“Yes,” Gwen lied. “Come see it tonight.”

Merlin was momentarily crestfallen. “I can’t tonight - but I can come by at the end of the week!” His countenance brightened again. Gwen’s fell. 

“Don’t you want to see it as soon as possible? I worked hard on it,” she needled. “The last time you requested something like this, you took my father’s best sword.”

“I’ll pay for this one, of course,” Merlin said hastily. “But um, I’m afraid it will still be a few days before I can see it in person.”

Gwen hesitated. When Merlin first came to her about the jewelry a few days ago, Gwen had planned to make it for him as a gift. It was so rare that Merlin asked a favor of anyone, and considering how he’d been pining after Arthur for years while supporting her selflessly all the while… although then again, she hadn’t asked him to make that sacrifice. Just like she hadn’t asked Lancelot to make her decision for her and run away as though she wasn’t an adult with her own mind. Perhaps some compensation was the least Gwen deserved for putting up with the men in her life doing what they thought was best for her without once consulting her about it. 

Gwen made up her mind. “That would be lovely Merlin, thank you,” she said sweetly. It wasn’t as though Merlin couldn’t afford it with what he must make as the prince’s manservant - she certainly made enough as Morgana’s handmaiden, and Morgana was only the ward. 

\----

Morgana sank into a surprisingly lush pillow and looked around the cavernous space once again. The rugs and cozy decorations seemed to increase every time she ventured down for another magic lesson with Merlin. And the ledge was surprisingly warm for a cave; there were candles everywhere. Merlin had even managed to obtain a plate of… “Are those strawberries?”

“Anything for you, milady,” Merlin said cheerily. “Would you like one?” Morgana tried a strawberry while she told Merlin more about her successes with the light spell. They’d refined her technique last night, but she still produced light in colors that seemed tied to her mood. The fruit was surprisingly plump and sweet - a perfect strawberry, really. She grabbed another one as she talked. 

“Fascinating,” Merlin broke the silence when she had finished describing her experimentations. “When I - see the spell done, it’s always been a bluish-white light.”

Morgana studied Merlin closely. “Have you seen many spells done?”

“‘Course I have! That’s why I’m the best teacher for you,” Merlin said proudly.

And just like that, Morgana was angry again.

“Right,” she said frigidly, dropping the strawberry tray on the floor with no attempt to muffle the resultant clatter. “You’re the best teacher for me. Because you’ve shared your magical knowledge so much in the past. That’s why you didn’t support me and left me afraid and attempted my murder,” she hissed.

“That’s not fair!” Merlin protested. “I told you, your death was the only way to wake everyone up and save Camelot, I never wanted to, but Arthur would have died otherwise! And I tried to support you before that! And don’t act like you’ve never tried to kill people who trust you to advance your cause - “ Merlin stopped speaking suddenly. His eyes glowed faintly red as he looked about, confused. “Erm… Sorry, what were we talking about?” He gave a shaky laugh. “I think I must have zoned out for a minute, I can’t remember.” 

Morgana was equally confused. Morgause’s love potion was supposed to be incredibly powerful while allowing Merlin some free will, to keep Merlin from bursting into love songs and acting like the obvious idiot that Arthur was when enchanted. But Merlin shouldn’t have been capable of that amount of genuine thought while entranced, and Morgause’s enchantment shouldn’t have needed to backlash against him so strongly as to provide visible evidence of it. Something was wrong. 

“You look beautiful today,” Merlin offered into the silence. 

Morgana ignored the compliment. “You said you’ve seen lots of spells done,” she stated. Did the servant have a protection spell on him, perhaps? A good-luck charm?

“Yes! Yes. I was thinking, now that you’ve got the light spell down, perhaps this one for summoning would be good next - “

Morgana interrupted him. “How, Merlin?”

“How what?”

“How have you seen lots of spells done? When?”

“Well, when someone does magic, obviously,” Merlin laughed. 

“Who does it?” Morgana pressed.

“Who does what?”

“The magic, Merlin,” Morgana hissed. The servant could be so bloody dense sometimes. “Who. Have you seen. Do spells.”

“Oh! There’s been loads of people.” Morgana waited for Merlin to elaborate. He didn’t.

“Name them,” Morgana ordered.

“Is everything alright? You seem sort of… angry? Tense?” Merlin rolled off his pillow and stood up, rolling his shoulders around as if preparing for exercise. “I know! You need a massage. I’m very good at them, we’ll have you right as rain in no time!”

Morgana was beginning to sympathize with Arthur, of all people, and that more than anything pushed her over the edge. “Tell me how you became acquainted with magic, or I’ll have Gaius killed,” she snapped.

Merlin stilled. There was a familiar look on his face, of resignation mixed with pain. With a start, Morgana realized it was the same look he’d worn when she was dying by his hand in his arms.

“You’ll never forgive me, will you,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Anyone who betrays you, whatever their reasons, whatever their intentions, you’ll never give them a second chance. It will always be black and white with you.”

Morgana thought she should probably have a lot to say to that. She couldn’t think of a thing.

“But that’s alright,” he continued, “you don’t have to forgive me. You don’t even half to like me most of the time. But if nothing else, please let me be your friend,” he asked gently. 

“You can’t want only friendship,” Morgana scoffed, disliking the turn the conversation had taken and unsure how to turn it around. She would be having words with Morgause about how to properly brew a love potion as soon as Morgause returned. She’d wanted a mindless manservant enslaved to her will, not unsettling philosophizing and quiet requests.

“I want whatever makes you happy,” Merlin replied. “Can you really tell me that you’re happy right now?”

\---

Gwaine was very unhappy. It had been raining nonstop since he’d joined up with Arthur, who seemed utterly unaffected by the miserable weather and had in fact been in a delightful mood since they’d turned back towards the castle. The princess wasn’t bloody human. No one should look that pleased after days of hard riding through the cold and mud. Gwaine’s current theory was that making his knights miserable - building character!, the princess called it - somehow fueled Arthur as a person. 

The worst part of all was Gwaine’s new shadow Bedivere. The knight whose sword he had flashily taken when first reuniting with Arthur had apparently chosen to hero-worship Gwaine from afar. Gwaine supposed this was better than sulking or harboring a grudge about the swordsmanship thing, but it was still bloody unnerving whenever he turned around on one of their makeshift campsites and Bedivere was right there. Gwaine knew how to deal with animosity, but admiration was new. The kid couldn’t even work up the nerve to actually talk to Gwaine yet. He’d just hover around, silently in Gwaine’s space.

Arthur was quite encouraging of Bedivere’s stumbling efforts to befriend the older knight. Gwaine suspected that Arthur knew how off-putting Gwaine found it, and thought the whole thing was hilarious. 

Arthur always had been a prick.

\-----

Gaius returned to Camelot the next day. He had received an urgent summons from Uther about Morgana’s deathly illness, but begun journeying back even earlier, ever since the dragon rumors had reached the village he was helping. Gaius had quickly finished teaching the village doctor the necessary skills before hurrying home because if Kilgharrah was roaming the countryside so visibly, then something was drastically wrong. Merlin needed him. 

Gwen intercepted Gaius before he’d even made it back to his chambers.

“Gaius! You’re back so soon!” Gwen exclaimed.

“Indeed, young lady. How fares the Lady Morgana? Uther sent me a notice that she was on death’s edge,” Gaius said, deeply concerned. “I need to collect my supplies and head to her chambers with great haste.”

Gwen threw her hands up in the air. Gaius grew alarmed. “There’s nothing wrong with Morgana! I told Uther she had a slight fever two days ago, that’s all. He can’t keep overreacting every time Morgana has so much as a paper cut! She’s fine.”

“...Indeed,” Gaius said, taken aback.

“I’m so sorry you made such a rush to get back for no reason, Gaius,” Gwen apologized, “but now that you’re here, could I bother you for some help? It’s to do with Merlin, there’s trouble.”

Gaius felt his levels of alarm triple. “What’s happened to my boy?”

“Oh, er, nothing that bad,” Gwen said. “I mean, it’s actually really bad, I think, but he’s not injured or anything, at least not at the moment, so it could be worse? But it’s not good.”

She winced as Gaius treated her to The Eyebrow.

“I think we’d best sit in my chambers so you can explain yourself clearly, young lady,” Gaius said severely. 

Gwen agreed that would be for the best.

\---

Merlin and Morgana were working on summoning today. Morgana had left a message for Morgause in their usual place but doubted her sister was back yet from dragon-tracking to see it. Until she could confer with Morgause, Morgana was stuck with Merlin and his stupid enchanted self. She might as well make good use of it.

It had everything to do with being practical, and nothing to do with actually enjoying Merlin’s lessons. Nothing at all.

“Would you care for another strawberry, Milady?” Merlin asked her. “And make sure you’re visualizing the summons, that helps.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Morgana said, and successfully summoned her fourth strawberry out of Merlin’s hand and into her own.

“I smuggled some chocolate from the kitchens, so if we move to spells for controlling flame next then we can melt the chocolate and dip the strawberries into it,” Merlin suggested.

Morgana could appreciate Merlin’s not-so-subtle attempts at romance. They were pointless, she still hated him, but they were appreciated nonetheless.

\---

Only the problem was, Morgana might not hate Merlin as much as she’d thought.

As the week went on, Morgana began to lose track of just how often her and Merlin were meeting in the cave under the castle - it never seemed to be often enough. She was coming to several unwelcome realizations, loathe as she was to admit them, and one of them was that she enjoyed Merlin’s company. 

She’d forgotten what a good friend he’d been, way back before he poisoned her. It was part of why him doing so had hurt so much. He was funny, and caring, and kind, and Morgana knew all his actions were being controlled by the love potion but at the same time, he was being so Merlin whenever they met. And she’d missed it.

She’d gouge her eyes out before she would ever admit it to his face, but still. It was hard to keep up her burning hatred of him when he was being so goddamn nice. The worst part was that Morgause had warned her against this very scenario, yet Morgana still found herself warming to the manservant. 

He’d asked her if she was happy. It had taken someone asking for her to realize she wasn’t.

She hated everyone in Camelot, and hate was draining. Morgana was tired of being alone and afraid. It was why she was so fervent in her plans to destroy Uther and reign over Camelot in his stead. If she were Queen, and Camelot were hers, she wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore. Magic would be legal and injustice would end.

Only then Merlin would say things out of the blue during their sessions, like “Would you really be happy winning Camelot in a coup when all its citizens would fear you after?”, or “Are you sure Arthur’s death is the only way to reach your goals? The guilt still eats me up inside, from when I tried to kill you. I don’t want you to go through that pain.”

Once, he even suggested that she tell Uther the truth. “At least you’ll know for sure then, that his hatred of magic is stronger than his love for you, instead of letting the uncertainty drive you mad. He could yet surprise you. And if he doesn’t, it’s not like he’d actually be able to kill you. Morgause and I would help you escape,” Merlin said with certainty. 

Morgana had laughed at the absurdity of it.

But then she’d wondered.

\---

It was nearly ten days after Arthur and his knights had first left Camelot in pursuit of the dragon when the prince returned, only a handful of knights in tow. The memories of the last dragon attack at Camelot and the resulting massacre were still fresh in many Camelot citizen’s minds. 

Arthur did not realize this until Gwaine pointed it out to him.

“Oi, princess,” Gwaine whispered loudly as they rode into town. “Why is everyone around us doing a double take and crying? Your dad kick it?” Uther dying would be pretty peachy, since he and Gwaine weren’t on the best of terms and also the man would happily burn Gwaine’s best friend to death, but since Merlin was being controlled by Morgana… if Merlin had anything to do with Uther’s death, things could get complicated fast.

Arthur glared at Gwaine. “No, my father has not ‘kicked it’, you idiot. The townspeople are upset because…” - Arthur looked up and seemed to fully take in the mourning faces around him for the first time - “...Shit. Less than a quarter of their men returned from fighting a dragon. It looks bad. Ride faster, the sooner we fill my father in on our progress, the sooner everyone will be set at ease.”

Gwaine personally thought everyone would be set at ease if Arthur just shouted from his horse that no one had been slayed by a dragon, but he supposed the prince had his reasons.

They reached the throne room shortly after for Arthur to hold an audience with the king. Uther was already seated and waiting, having doubtless been made aware of his son’s arrival and the absence of most of the knights on the hunting party.

“What news have you of the dragon?” Uther asked, allowing Arthur to begin his report.

Gwaine noticed from behind the prince that Arthur’s impossibly good posture somehow got even straighter under his father’s eye. 

“All our men are well, none have died,” Arthur began. The rest of the people in the throne room - servants, minor nobility, and more knights - let out an audible sigh of relief. Uther’s expression did not change. “The dragon flies in no discernable pattern,” Arthur continued. “There are no reports of harm to villagers or livestock. It is behaving unlike anything we would expect - no attacks, no injuries. We can barely keep pace with it on our best horses, and have been unable to engage the beast in battle,” Arthur summarized. He gestured to the small group of knights surrounding him. “Leon leads the main patrol in continued chase, but I fear nothing will come of it. We have returned to seek Gauis’s counsel on why the beast is behaving in such an unusual manner.”

Uther leaned forward on his throne. “Indeed, this is troubling news. The dragon is biding its time, but do not think that it will not harm innocents soon,” he warned. “Dragons are creatures of magic, after all.”

“Of course” Arthur acknowledged. “I have an additional matter to bring before you, Father.” The prince motioned for Gwaine to step forward. Arthur and Gwaine had discussed how exactly to convince Arthur’s notoriously stubborn (Gwaine preferred the term pig-headed) father to not only rescind Gwaine’s banishment but to further establish him as a knight and member of court. 

They had concluded that Gwaine should speak as little as possible.

Arthur was in the midst of some truly inspired and impassioned public speaking on Gwaine’s behalf. Gwaine found himself reluctantly impressed despite himself. Anyone who could use phrases like “the courageous caliber of his character” without sounding like an overdramatic, drunk bard - of whom Gwaine had met several - was worthy of at least some praise. Uther had looked livid upon first seeing a man he had expressedly banished back in the heart of his kingdom, but allowed Arthur to make his piece. Gwaine was pretty impressed by that as well. 

For all Arthur and Gwaine’s careful preparations, they had not considered that Uther might be personally familiar with Gwaine’s line of nobility, or that it would cause such a drastic change in Uther’s opinion of Gwaine. 

Uther, as it turned out, was familiar with House Green of Caerleon’s kingdom. Gwaine’s father and Uther had been old friends who met in Uther’s youth on opposite sides of the battlefield and found one another worthy. Uther was delighted to sweep Gwaine’s past indiscretions under the rug and welcome his old friend’s son to his court. The king even declared a feast in Gwaine’s honor while cheerfully reminiscing about the reasons for Gwaine’s past banishment. “Your father was always a stubborn fool too,” Uther laughed.

Gwaine kept all thoughts of Uther’s hypocrisy to himself. He had never wanted a noble’s life or the sickening double standards that accompanied it. But Merlin needed him, and Gwaine would do anything for his friend.

Arthur, meanwhile, was delighted that it had been this easy. Gwaine was a Knight of Camelot, his father wasn’t furious with him, and he could now focus on finding Gaius and answers about the dragon.

More importantly, he could find Merlin.

\---


End file.
